Emery Lynn
by Kissy Fishy
Summary: Name: Emery Lynn Steed. Age: 14. Parent/Guardian s : John and Emma Steed. Current Residence: 102 Rainfall St., London, Eng. Current Status: Bored. Utterly and completely bored.
1. 1 Me, Emery Lynn

*_Emery Lynn _is the Avengers with a modern twist, told from the sarcastic point of view of the young Emery Steed, daughter of Emma Peel and John Steed. It takes place in modern times, as there are cell phones, Facebook, etc. Also, I am aware that the ages of Steed and Emma are not accurate AT ALL. But it was necessary for this story. Please note that certain characters are from a previous Avengers fanfic that I wrote. Other than that, it has absolutely NO connection to my prior story.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you enjoy my story.*

Name: Emery Lynn Steed

Age: 14

Parents: John and Emma Steed

Current Residence: 102 Rainfall St., London, Eng.

Current Status: Bored. Utterly and completely bored.

**1 Me, Emery Lynn**

Ugh. That was _so_ not my fault, no matter what Mom says! I mean, how was I supposed to know that the thing Dad brought home from work was a bomb? What was Dad doing, bringing a bomb home in the first place? He just works in the office with Mom. No bombs in an office cubicle, last time I checked.

And yet, Dad brings one home, sets it on the kitchen counter, and it's MY fault the thing goes off. I thought it was a timer, honestly! I was baking cookies, you know, trying to be a good daughter and all, and I set the timer for twenty minutes so they wouldn't burn.

So twenty minutes later, while I was watching TV, what happens? Why, the kitchen blows up, of course!

Mom came home and completely freaked out, locked me in my room, folded her arms and muttered, "Just wait till your father gets home!"

That's how I wound up in my room, alone, waiting to hear the door open so Dad would come and announce my freedom. Just have to stay entertained until then. To pass the time, I practiced the number one question I had.

"'Why the hell did you bring a bomb home?'" I tried. "No, no, don't cuss. You'll get in even more trouble. Try playing innocent." I put on a pouting voice. "'But Daddy, why would you bring a bomb home where your poor daughter could have accidentally set it off and died?'" My tongue rolled out in disgust. "I am never speaking like that to anyone again. Even myself."

Yeah, I talk to myself. Mom and Dad do it all the time. It's hereditary. I can't help it.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open. I jumped up, excited, and ran to press my ear to the door. Mom and Dad always say something to each other, and I'm determined to hear it. I'm pretty sure it concerns me, like how careless and hopeless I am.

Footsteps. They were coming to my room. Both of them. Uh oh. This was new. Usually only Dad came because after an incident like this, Mom can't stand the sight of me. Yes, there have been events like this in the past.

I hurried to my bed, to arrange myself in an I've-been-here-the-whole-time position, so they would suspect nothing.

The door opened, and Mom and Dad entered my room. I could tell Dad wasn't happy about the mess it was, but I can't stand to be organized. Mom wasn't as much of a neat freak as he was, but she always took his side in clean-room arguments.

Mom sat down in my computer chair. "Emery," she began, "we need to talk."

I sat up, leaning against the wall. I tried to look disinterested, but the lack of anger was throwing me off. Where was the yelling? The string of punishments? I had just blown up the kitchen! "Okay," I said, shrugging. "About what?"

"About our work," Dad said. "It's time we told you what we really do."

I stared at him. "You sit in an office and file papers," I reminded him. "I've been there, Dad. There's not much going on."

He and Mom exchanged uncertain glances, as if they weren't sure they were doing the right thing. Bad sign. Doubtful parents usually make bad choices. I had learned this from watching all the lame TV shows that no one cares about, which makes them educational. Like public television.

"Emery," Mom continued, "your father and I work at a place called the Ministry."

My jaw dropped. The _Ministry?_ Now they were just making fun of me! "Yeah, okay," I snorted. "You two are special agents of Britain's most secretive branch of government, so secret it probably doesn't even exist. Yup. I understand everything now."

Dad glared at me. "There's no need to be sarcastic, Emery. You were supposed to have no idea of who we are and what we do. It was our orders."

"We didn't want to," Mom insisted. "Mother forced us. He wanted-."

Did I just hear that there was a _guy_ named Mother? Is that really what just entered my ears? I snickered. Poor guy.

Mom scowled at me. "Emery," she said firmly. "Pay attention. We're serious. Your father and I were the top agents of the Ministry, always out on missions. Well, I wasn't really an agent, but that's beside the point. And then I got pregnant. Father was furious. She threatened to fire us, have our memories wiped, everything! We were forced to become round the clock office workers, and believe me, it's been hell."

Whoa. Did Mom just cuss? Dang, this _was_ serious. I should start paying attention.

Dad took over the speech. "What we're saying, Emery, is that we're the best there ever was, and now they need us back in the field. We'll be gone for a couple weeks, and then we'll be back. Nothing you can't handle."

"Except for the fact that you just blew up all your chances at learning to cook a meal for yourself," Mom explained, smirking. "Seeing as how there's no way for you to survive here alone, you'll be staying with Mother."

"The guy, right?" I asked, nervous.

Dad nodded. "Unfortunately, he was the only one oblivious enough to take you." He bent down so that his mouth was at my ear. "Listen carefully," he murmured. "Mother will be observing you, evaluating you. If he decides you're good enough, you can join the Ministry. So you be good."

I thought about it for a minute. "Will I still have to go to school?" I questioned. If I didn't get out of school, there was no point in even trying to impress this Mother guy.

Dad grimaced and made a maybe gesture. "We'll see. Don't tell your mom." At this, he turned to glance at Mom, who was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay?"

I nodded. No more school! This was gonna be great! "When are you leaving?" I wondered.

"Tomorrow," Mom answered. "After breakfast." She stood and left the room. "We're eating out tonight!" she called.

I grinned and waited for Dad to leave. Facebook was waiting, and boy did I have an update! (Even though no one would care about what Emery Steed had to say.) He was watching me, curious. "What?" I asked.

"Do you believe us? You didn't put up as much of a fight as I expected," he said.

"I believe you," I lied. Believe my parents were loons, more like.

Dad exhaled, and he seemed annoyed. "If you want to become a good agent, you need to be a good liar. I've been waiting for some sort of skill to arise, but you are a _terrible_ liar, Emery."

I gaped, offended. "What do you mean, I'm a terrible liar? I've gotten away with so much!"

"Like?" Dad asked. "Please, enlighten me."

I opened my mouth, totally prepared to rattle off a whole list, but then realized I had nothing. After getting caught so many times I had given up on lying and resorted to just telling the truth. I was silent, and Dad's expression grew smug.

"That's what I thought." He flipped his bowler hat and placed it on his head, traded the hand his umbrella was in, and headed for the door. "Dress nice, please?" he requested. "Knowing your mother, she'll want to go somewhere fancy. And don't tell me you have nothing nice. I know you have at least ten dresses."

I looked down at my clothes, the usual jeans and t-shirt, and groaned at the though of wearing a dress. It wasn't my fault Grandma kept sending me these extremely fancy dresses, although the part about my parents forcing me to wear them I probably brought on myself.

And the heels Mom made me wear! That part I _knew_ was punishment, because she smirked every time I hobbled around on those stilts.

Reluctantly, I went to my closet and selected the plainest dress I had. My plainest dress is white, completely hugs my figure in an uncomfortable way, and restricts my legs from walking like a normal human being. My hair is brown and straight, like Dad's, but according to everyone I have Mom's eyes. Which, to be honest, I have no freaking clue what color they are.

I was dressed and wishing that I had remembered to shave my legs that morning while running around the house, barefoot, searching for my high heels. The last time I had been forced into those peg legs, I had decided enough was enough and hid them in various places around the house, even separating the pairs.

Now, however, I couldn't remember where I'd hid them. And Mom would kill me if I went to a fancy restraint in my Converse.

"Ready, Emery?" Mom called. She came out in a scarlet dress and diamond earrings, already strapped into her heels and looking at me expectantly. "Come on, your father's waiting outside."

"He dresses nice daily," I muttered, having succeeded in finding two white high heels. They weren't the same, but the color matched and, really, who was looking? "He doesn't have to get ready."

Mom grabbed a jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. "We'll be in the car," she said.

I hoped we were taking Dad's car. Dad's car was _cool_.

When I got outside, I was disappointed to see that we were taking Mom's car. I pulled my jacket on and opened the back seat. Mom's car was nice, don't get me wrong. But Dad's was so _old_ and classy, it was just awesome! I loved it when he took me to school in it, so that everyone could stare at the awesome car and be jealous.

I stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and sat with my knees up on the seat. Mom turned around and scolded me. "Sit like a lady, Emery," she snapped.

I rolled my eyes but placed my heeled feet on the floor of the car. When I was sure she wasn't looking, though, I pulled them back up.

Dad pulled out of the driveway and we were off.

"So, where are we going?" I asked nonchalantly. I've been trying to appear as if I have no opinion on the subject, so they won't find out I hate a certain place and take me there every time we go out.

Dad shrugged. "Wherever you want, Emma."

"Luigi's," Mom said.

I stiffened. "Luigi's? The place where the guy comes out with a violin and plays right in your ear and the only other people there are old bags?"

"Don't say that," Mom snapped. "But yes, that's the one."

What? Why there? Not to mention that I hated EVERYTHING on their menu, but the very atmosphere of the place bored me to death. Last time we went, I had snuck my iPod into the restaurant. Dad said if he ever saw me do that again, he would take away my computer.

I think this is just payback for all the things I've done. Instead of grounding me for blowing up the kitchen, they take me to Luigi's. Which is worse, believe me.

Although, they could have taken me to El Esceula, a Mexican restraint where everything is loud and noisy and it smells like dirt. They chose Luigi's because they hate the Mexican one almost as much as I do, I think.

I bit my lip and remained silent, because the smiles on their faces said I had revealed just how much I hated the place.

***

The violin guy was coming around the room, spending a little time at each table. Three more until he came to ours, during which I was going for a bathroom break.

"Emery," Mom said, grabbing my attention, "please, tell us, are you alright with us leaving for so long?" She had her pasta stabbed on her fork, but she wasn't eating it. Something was bothering her, since she hadn't eaten hardly anything. Mom doesn't eat when she's upset.

I put my fork down and met her gaze, trying to read her eyes. My elbows were up on the table, and I was slumped over. Dad was frowning, as posture was a must in a place like this. "Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine with it. I mean, no school for two weeks-."

Mom cut me off. "No school? Oh, are you sadly mistaken, Emery," she said, grinning slightly. She took a bite of her food, so laughing meant she was feeling better. "Mother will take you to school, and he'll pick you up afterwards."

"And don't even think about skipping," Dad commanded.

Dammit. How can he read my mind like that? Here, let's try the lying thing.

I gaped. "How can you think I would do something like that? Am I so bad that you have absolutely no confidence in me?"

Dad placed his knife back on his plate. "That was very good, except for the fact that your face gave you away the instant I said it."

"You're kidding!" I cried. "I have to worry about my expression when I lie?"

Mom looked from Dad to me and back again. "Well, of course," she said, keeping her eyes on me, even though she wasn't sure what we were talking about. "Your expression is the most vital part of your lie." She, too, placed her fork down, and it seemed we all forgot about the food. "See, Emery, when you're being interrogated, it's good to act like you don't know what they're talking about. Since you're a girl, you can cry to seem more innocent."

"The best liars in the world are actors," Dad told me knowingly, "because they can become anyone and anything, and display emotion on cue. That's why I wanted you to take Drama at school."

Amazing. There was a school course that taught you all about lying! I was so signing up for it next semester. "So I've just got to put on a show, and stay in character?" I said. I had to be sure I had this right.

Mom nodded. "Yes, but don't overdo it. If you're annoying, it can get you killed."

So, if I learn to put on an act as well as my parents, I'll be able to talk about dying as freely as Mom just did, like it doesn't matter? Maybe my parents were just well trained actors, and this was an elaborate joke! It seemed infinitely more likely than them being special agents. I bet they were going away so they could film a movie.

I would have to check the upcoming movies and look for their names.

"Okay, don't exaggerate," I said, nodding. "I can do that."

Dad fixed me with a hard stare, and I felt as if he had heard every thought that had just run through my head. He looked back at his food, which meant, "We'll talk later, when your mother's not around."

"Tomorrow, we're taking you to the Ministry, and we'll introduce you to Mother," Mom said. "Pack your things when we get home."

I was going to live with a guy called Mother for the next two weeks. Fun.


	2. 2 The Ministry

**2 The Ministry**

Dad was sitting next to me on my bed, spinning his hat on his finger. I watched it twirl while waiting patiently for the lecture to start. Mom had gone to bed, so it would begin in a few more spins.

Finally, he stopped spinning his hat and looked at me. I looked back at him with eyes as innocent as I could muster, expectant. Dad sighed. "What can I do to show you we're not crazy?" he asked, exasperated.

"Crazy?" I repeated, acting shocked. "Who said you were crazy? I certainly didn't."

"Overdoing it," he pointed out, and I fell silent. "Emery, you don't believe we're special agents, it's obvious. You should control your expressions better; it's like reading your mind."

I pouted. "Fine. I don't believe you. I think you guys are either nuts or actors putting on a show. The only part that doesn't fit into my theory is the bomb." I folded my arms. "Can you explain that part, please?"

Dad shrugged. "Alright, Emery. It's something we at the Ministry had never seen before, and can work a hundred different ways. I was supposed to take it apart and learn how it worked, but you've saved me from that tiresome homework."

"Doesn't convince me of anything," I said stubbornly.

"Then tomorrow, I'll prove it," he decided. Dad gave me a hug. "Good night, dear. See you in the morning."

"Am I waking up early?" I asked.

"Eh, five thirty," he replied, and walked out the door.

"FIVE THIRTY?" I repeated loudly. I heard him laughing as he went to his room. "Five freaking thirty? No way!"

***

Emma wasn't asleep. She was sitting up in bed, waiting for Steed to come. She heard her daughter's outraged cry at something he had said, and his good-natured chuckle. He opened the door. "Hello," he greeted. "I didn't expect you to be awake."

"I didn't expect you to give Emery another lecture behind my back," she retorted.

Steed hung his umbrella and hat on the hook behind the door, and went into the closet to get his pajamas. "It wasn't extremely important," he said as he changed his clothes.

"Then what did you talk about?" she pressed.

He came out of the closet and got into bed next to her. "Emery doesn't believe we are what we say," he explained.

Emma gaped. "That's _extremely_ important!" she cried. "How dare you leave me out of a conversation so vital?"

"Emma, calm down," he said. "She thinks we're loons, or that we're playing a joke. I told her that tomorrow, we would take her to the Ministry and prove that we were spies. Sound good?"

She made a face, crossed her arms, and avoided his eyes. "Fine," she growled. "But there was no need to keep it secret from me."

Steed stared at her. "You're still mad about Monday, aren't you?"

"Yes, John, I am," she snapped.

"Why? You're coming with me. No need to be angry anymore."

Emma sighed and looked down at her hands. "I thought we were done with missions. And then Mother assigned you one, and you accepted it. I thought we'd agreed we would do no more missions, for Emery's sake."

"We did," Steed replied. "But I wasn't given a choice. We're the only ones left, Emma. Everyone else is dead. This mission has been killing us off."

"All the more reason to turn it down. Emery would be devastated if you died on this mission!"

Steed took her hand. "Would you?"

"Of course I would!" she exclaimed. "And that's exactly why I'm coming with you. You need someone to watch your back, and I wouldn't trust anyone more than myself."

"Still as confident as ever, Mrs. Peel," Steed laughed.

"Speak for yourself, Steed," she countered. "'I haven't killed anyone all week'. You're a real character."

His expression grew smug. "I try."

Emma smiled, over with her anger, and squirmed excitedly. "Just think. Tomorrow, we'll be on a mission, killing bad guys and defusing bombs."

"I'll stick to swordplay," Steed said, grinning.

She ignored him. "In America, in a New York hotel, just the two of us, with danger lurking around every corner." She turned to him and smiled. "Romantic, isn't it?"

Steed pulled her into an embrace. "Don't run away," he told her. "I'll have to give chase. And in a place like New York, you'll be hard to follow."

***

We took Dad's car. I had in my duffel bag two week's worth of clothes, hair care, and other things I was certain a man wouldn't have that I would need. All my school things sat in my backpack, and my phone was in my pocket. My iPod was hidden in my shirt so Mom wouldn't take it from me.

"Are you memorizing the route here?" Dad asked over the wind.

I jumped and immediately started watching the buildings pass. Dad had asked me to memorize the way from our house to the Ministry, and I had completely forgotten to do so. I was panicking until we passed the Buckingham Palace. I breathed a sigh of relief. Good. I could go from there.

We drove for a little more until, to my great surprise, we went under a bridge. Our way was blocked by a bar, and I sat there wondering if we would have to walk until I saw the little screen.

It was like a mini TV, on a stick, just kinda sitting there. Dad reached out and placed his thumb on the screen. It scanned his print. "John Steed," it said in an automated voice. "Is Emma Peel with you?"

"Yes, along with our daughter, Emery Lynn Steed." He spoke very clearly, so the computer would catch everything he said.

The thing beeped. "Mother is waiting for you." The bar swung up, allowing us to pass. "Have a nice day."

"You too," Dad said, and we drove on.

"We need to get that changed to say Emma Steed," Mom said. "It's been sixteen years."

"I think Mother keeps it like that as a joke," Dad guessed. "After all, you were always Mrs. Peel. They're not going to change it to Steed. It would be confusing."

"You were married before?" I asked, concerned. This, for some reason, didn't seem right at ALL. I couldn't see her with anyone but Dad.

"Yes, but he died almost twenty-five years ago," Mom said, and the way she said it told me that this subject was not to be discussed anymore. I looked at Dad to see if it was bothering him, but he seemed perfectly fine. Was this a touchy topic for Mom? Seemed like it.

Suddenly, Dad braked. "Look at that. The ducks are working."

Mom leaned forward. "I didn't think those things would ever move," she said.

I tried to see the ducks, but they were too far forward for my line of vision. There was, however, a big yellow sign that said Duck Xing with a silhouette of a duck.

Why were there ducks down here? In an underground parking lot?

Abruptly, one of them jumped up on the hood of the car, quacking and flapping its wings. I stared at it. It looked exactly like a normal duck, except that some of the paint had rubbed off on its leg, revealing it to be made of shiny, glinting metal. There were wires running up and down it, and a few screws could be seen.

"It's mechanical," I said in awe.

"Very observant," Dad said, sarcastic. "Now how do I get it off the car?"

Mom reached down and grabbed his umbrella. Her fingers found the button, and it snapped open, causing the duck to jump back in fright. It and its friends waddled away, and we could drive again.

"Thank you, Emma," Dad said.

Mom was busy trying to close the umbrella again. "It was high time we put this thing to use."

"I get quite a bit of use out of it, thank you very much," Dad replied.

"When?" Mom asked. "Seeing as how it never rains, and you've had no need for a sword in years, when do you use this thing?"

"Sword?" I repeated. "You have a sword?"

Dad parked the car, opened the door, and stepped out. "Yes. I have many swords. And if your mother would let me, I would teach you fencing."

"I want to teach her," said Mom. "That was my only reason." She stepped out and slammed the door. "Come on, Emery. We'll be late."

I clambered out of the car, dragging my two bags behind me. I was determined to appear as if I could carry both, but they were heavy together. My arms warned me that the instant I stopped thinking about it, they were dropping the load.

"Steed!" someone called. I look to see a man jogging towards us in a white lab coat. The lights above us flickered.

"Good morning, Stanley," Dad said. "Off to check on the ducks?"

"You saw them?" Stanley cried. "Oh, marvelous! Aren't they splendid creatures?" He froze, his eyes on me. A smile appeared on his face. "This must be little Emery! How wonderful!"

I glared at him. I was _not_ little. Maybe short, but not little.

Stanley grinned at Mom and Dad, and I decided he smiled a little too much. "You two are taking the mission?" he asked.

Mom nodded. "And Emery is going to stay with Mother," she added.

"Really?" he cajoled. Or it sounded like cajoling. He was way too happy about all this. "Aren't the twins staying with him too?"

I watched Mom's face go white. "The twins?" She swallowed uncertainly.

Dad, on the other hand, chuckled lightly. "If anyone can outdo the twins, it's Emery."

Now I had competition? In what, exactly? To get the job at the Ministry, if it was a real offer? I still wasn't sure about all this. My parents could still be lunatics or actors.

"We'd best be going," Dad observed. "Have a good day, Stanley."

"And you as well!" Stanley called. He was already running to go find his ducks, even making quacking noises.

Mom approached what looked like an elevator. "Good Lord, the _twins_," she breathed.

I reached to press the button, something I always had to do when we rode in elevators. Dad placed a comforting arm on Mom's shoulder. "Not to worry, dear. The twins won't kill her."

"Not while she's awake," she murmured. The elevator arrived, and we stepped inside. My arms were close to snapping off at the elbows.

"They're not that bad," Dad denied. He whipped out a piece of paper. "Here, Mother gave me their evaluation last week so I could keep them under control for the day. It says they are prone to schizophrenic and kleptomaniacal behavior, have both ADD and ADHD, are incredibly hyperactive and must never have caffeine."

I rested the bags on the floor, cheating. Mom had her hands on her hips. "No, that's not bad at all." She rolled her eyes. "One of them would have been bad enough, but no. There are two! Thank God we've never had to watch them. They drive me crazy!"

"Maybe this will be good for Emery," Dad supplied.

I whistled. "Hey. I'm right here. Don't talk like I'm not."

Mom pursed her lips. "Sorry, Emery. Even you don't deserve a punishment this harsh." The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I forced myself to pick up my bags and follow my parents out into the hall. They reached an office with the name Mother on the door, pulled it open, and went inside.

Of course, the door closed before I could get inside, so I was left standing out in the hall with my horribly heavy bags and no free hand to open the stupid door. Raising my foot and balancing on the other, I tapped on the glass.

Dad let me in, smirking. I glared at him, dropped my stuff, and sat down in the nearest chair.

"Hello Emery," said the man behind the desk. "I'm Mother."

My mouth fell open. Mother wasn't anything like I was expecting. He had a thin mustache, gray hair, and a cigarette in his mouth. Instead of a regular chair, he sat in a wheelchair, with his arms folded in his lap and his elbows on the arm rests. He reminded me of a grandfather.

A fly must've gone in my mouth or something, because Mom tapped me on the shoulder and I realized I had just been staring at the guy. Immediately embarrassed, I looked down at my Converse and said, "Hi Mother."

He smiled a warm and friendly smile. "So you'll be staying with me for the next two weeks, right?"

I nodded. Thankfully, Mom took over from there.

"I didn't know you would have the twins at the same time as Emery," she hinted. "It sounds like quite a handful."

Mother tossed his hand as if it were nothing. "I'll manage, Mrs. Peel. Don't you worry?"

"Are you sure?" Mom pressed. "We could always find someone else to take her."

"Nonsense, nonsense, I won't hear of it!" Mother said. He wheeled himself around the desk. "I may be old, but I'm quite capable of taking care of three teenagers."

Dad looked around. "Speaking of which, where are the twins?"

"Ah, somewhere in this bloody building, I'm not sure," Mother grunted. "You two had better get going. You'll miss your flight." He pulled open the door and wheeled himself out of the office. "I'll be out here when you're ready."

Mom swooped down on me and gave me a hug. "I'm going to miss you, Emery," she said in my ear. There were tears in her voice. "And I promise, we'll be back as soon as we can." She kissed me on the forehead. "I love you."

"Love you too, Mom," I said, hugging her back.

She pulled away, and I stood to hug Dad. His arms were much stronger than Mom's. "Goodbye, Emery," he mumbled. "Try to be good, please? I want to my boss to still have his head on straight when I come back."

"I'm still waiting for you to prove something," I hissed.

Dad smiled. "I'm entrusting that task to Mother now, as I haven't time." He pulled away. "Oh, and about the twins. Keep your valuables hidden. They specialize in search and recover."

Search and recover didn't sound like something I wanted to happen to me. I nodded in understanding.

"Good," Dad said. "One more thing." He reached into his pocket and placed a small gadget in my hand. "It's a multi-purpose mystery gadget," he explained, "and it's equipped to provide help in over 900 different emergencies. You may find it useful." With that, he placed his hat on his head, took Mom by the arm, and strode out of the room.

I took a moment to stare at the little piece of technology and worried that if I put it in my pocket and fell, I would crush the thing. With a shrug, I pocketed it anyways and rushed out of the office.

Mom and Dad were already at the elevator. "Bye!" I called.

They turned and waved, but that instant the elevator doors opened, and then they were gone.

"Well," said Mother. He was lighting another cigarette. "Care to meet your family for the next two weeks?"

I watched the elevator doors, almost hoping they would reappear, but they didn't. "Yeah, sure," I agreed. What else was there to do?

Mother started wheeling himself away. "Right then. This way."

I followed him, and noticed these things about him.

First of all, his cigarette smoke has this sickly sweet smell to it, like a hookah. Next, his wheelchair squeaks slightly in the left wheel, particularly when he turns. Third, he has a tendency to repeat himself when he talks. And finally, Mother loves macaroons. Loves them like a fat kid loves cake_._

How could I tell he loved macaroons so much? Well, he told me about the first time he met Dad. Apparently, Dad had come into the office and asked for a job. Mother had wanted to know what skills he had. So Dad smiled, placed his hat on his head, and suddenly Mother's whole plate of macaroons was missing. Mother had looked up and stared at him, and Dad pulled the macaroons out of his pockets and arranged them back on the plate.

"Needless to say, he got the job," Mother said. "But I have to admit he was never my favorite."

I made a mental note saying that if I ever wanted to piss this guy off, taking the macaroons was the way to go.

Mother turned a corner and flung open a door. A woman looked up and beamed at us. "Hello, Nancy," Mother greeted. "Oh, and the twins are here too!"


	3. 3 Alex and Ayla

**3 Alex and Ayla**

Well, the twins _seemed _innocent enough.

They were about my age, with doe brown eyes and angelic blond hair. They had the smiles of angels too, and their bodies were slender and strong. Nancy was standing next to them, bent over a paper the three were examining. She was very thin, with dull brown hair and eyes, but she was friendly enough.

"Hi!" said the girl twin. She danced forward. "My name's Ayla. You must be Emery!"

I nodded. Her brother came to stand next to her and extended his hand. "I'm Alex," he introduced while his sister spun around me. "We're the notorious twins."

Dazed, I shook his hand. These were the two everyone was worried about? They seemed so nice!

Alex let go of my hand and Ayla was by his side again. He turned to her and grinned. "What have you got?"

Ayla had a wallet in her hands now, along with an iPod and a cell phone. She opened the wallet. "Emery Lynn Steed, age fourteen, student of James Foster High School, born on December 17, student ID number 1098634103." She flipped open the cell phone. "List of contacts: Mom, Dad, and Grandma, indicating the subject has few or no friends." The phone went into her pocket, and she pulled out the iPod. "Recently played: Muse, Green Day, Girls Aloud, My Chemical Romance, the Ting Tings, and the Kooks."

I blinked. That was MY wallet, MY phone, and _MY_ iPod she had! I check my pockets just to be sure, and they were empty. "Hey," I started to say.

But Ayla had taken one more thing from me. She held it between her thumb and forefinger. "Subject also had what appears to be a multi-purpose mystery gadget, brand new condition, made in China." She placed it in her brother's hand. "Interesting one we have here."

Nancy marched over and took them by the ears. "That was _not_ nice," she growled. They cried out in protest, having to tilt their heads up so their ears wouldn't get pulled off. "We do not take other people's things. What do you do next?"

When they did nothing, she yanked harder, and they moaned louder. "Okay, okay!" Alex surrendered. He gave me the little gizmo Dad had given me, and Ayla handed me my other belongings. I shoved them deep inside my pockets in order to prevent them from being stolen in the future.

Nancy pulled on their ears again. "What do you say next?"

The twins looked like they were on the brink of tears. "Sorry," they mumbled.

Nancy released her hold on the twins, and they crumbled to the ground, rubbing their ears and murmuring insults.

I gaped at the twins. Now I knew what Dad had warned me about. I hoped there was going to be a lock on my door, though I wasn't sure how good their lock-picking skills were.

Nancy straightened up and smiled at me. "I'm sorry about them," she said. "They're good kids, really, just a little bored. I'll be staying with you, too, Emery, since I'm the only one who can keep them in check."

So there would be at least one sane person in this circus of a home. Good. Maybe she could teach me how to bake without blowing up the kitchen.

The twins had finished complaining about the pain in their ears, and were on their feet again. "Hey," Ayla said. "You're Mr. Steed's daughter, right?"

Confused, I nodded. Did this make me some sort of celebrity? Everyone seemed to know who I was.

Alex's face split into a grin. "Oh, this'll be fun," he said with relish. He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the hall. "C'mon, let's go!"

"Be nice!" Nancy called after us.

"We will!" Ayla replied.

They pulled me down the hall, up a flight of stairs and into a room. There were dozens of TV screens on the walls, and the room was dark. A man sat in a chair, watching the screens. "Hey Joe!" Alex said.

The man in the chair spun around, and Joe smiled. He was about seventeen, and looked like a total computer nerd. "Hey, guys," he said. "Who's the third musketeer?"

"This is Emery Steed," Ayla told him.

Joe's eyes went wide. "Steed? Really?" His eyebrows shot up. "I suppose you two want to show her the tapes from Monday, don't you?"

Alex nodded eagerly. "She should see them. It was the biggest fight I've ever seen!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked. It was bad enough being dragged around by criminal twins. Now I was confused, too. "Who fought on Monday?"

"Your parents," Joe explained. "They had a huge argument. It was really entertaining, truth be told, but it's not something I should be showing you."

My parents had a fight and I didn't know about it? "Dude," I said. "Show me the tape! My parents never fight!"

Joe stared at me. "You want to see it? Really?"

I nodded. "I never get to see any action. Let's watch it!"

Alex and Ayla grinned at each other, obviously thrilled at seeing the fight again. Joe shrugged uncertainly and pushed a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him. "Come over here. It'll be on this screen."

The three of us hurried to crowd around Joe, and the screen in front of us showed my parents standing together. Hm, no fighting yet, it seemed.

"Emma," said Dad on the screen, "I've been assigned a mission."

Mom jumped away from him. "What?"

"Mother put me on a mission, and I need to go," he explained.

"A mission? John, what are you thinking? You can't go on a mission! We have Emery to take care of!" Mom cried.

"I know," Dad said. "But-."

"You have an excuse?" she barked. "Let's hear it then!"

"I don't have a choice," was his excuse.

"No choice?" Mom repeated. "No _choice?_ John, you will NOT go on a mission while I stay here cooped up in an office." She folded her arms. "I'm coming with you."

"What?" Dad said in disbelief. "No! I will not have you put your life in danger!"

"And I won't let you do that either," Mom replied. "I'm coming with you."

Dad gaped at her. "We have Emery now, you said so yourself. One of us needs to stay and take care of her."

"I can't handle her by myself," she said. "Yesterday she short-circuited the power for the whole block! And she wouldn't tell me how; _you_ had to come and talk to her."

Dad grimaced. "Well, I certainly can't stay. Mother specifically told me to go. You simply can't come."

Mom's expression was arrogant. "Then I'm going to Mother, and we'll see what he has to say about this." She turned on her heel and marched down the hall to the elevator.

"No no no no you don't!" Dad yelled. He ran around Mom and stood in her way. "There's no need to bring him into this." By now, a small crowd had gathered to watch the fight. I saw the twins at the front, and it looked like they were collecting bets on who would win.

Mom's jaw dropped. "You're going to stand in my way like a child, Steed?"

"Mrs. Peel, this tantrum you're having is childish, not my behavior," Dad countered.

I had never heard my parents address each other this way. It scared me, bringing thoughts I'd rather not have to the front of my mind. What if they had a fight so huge that they split up?

"And you think you're going to keep me from going up those stairs," Mom said, her voice growing louder with each word, "talking to Mother, and joining you in your mission? You are SADLY MISTAKEN, STEED!" Mom was yelling now. I winced.

"You are NOT COMING WITH ME!" Dad yelled back.

"Just you try and stop me!" she screamed. "MOTHER! Get down here NOW!"

A minute later, the elevator doors opened and Mother appeared. "My God, Mrs. Peel, you're loud," he said.

"Is it true you've assigned him a mission?" Mom spat, pointing at Dad.

Mother looked between the two of them. "Yes. Why?"

Mom folded her arms again. "I'm coming with him."

Both Mother and Dad started fumbling with their words. "Absolutely not!" "Out of the question." "I won't have you put in danger." "What about Emery?"

"GOD DAMMIT!" Mom exploded. "I'M COMING WITH YOU OR SO HELP ME I'M LEAVING!"

Dad and Mother fell silent. The entire room was quiet, and I felt tears coming. No! Mom wouldn't do that! She loved Dad, right?

Mother looked up at Dad, ashamed. He was worried now, and he wasn't going to say anything more. It was such an intense silence that I could hear my own heartbeat.

Finally, Dad regained his composure. He straightened his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, and said in a low voice, "If it means that much to you, Emma, then please come."

Mom nodded curtly. "Thank you." She spun around and stalked off, victorious. Dad watched her go.

Suddenly, the tape stopped.

I looked down at Joe. He had pushed a button, freezing the image. It burned into my eyes. "Happy you saw that?" he asked me.

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to remember that everything was better now. "No," I whispered. "I'm not."

"We made £30 off of them," Alex said proudly. "They were all betting that Steed would win."

My vision blurred. Why had I wanted to see that? Why? _Mom and Dad could've split up,_ I wailed inwardly. _You stupid, oblivious child! You didn't see any of the signs! They could have been struggling for years, and you could've helped them. Idiot, Emery! You IDIOT!_

"Are you okay?" Ayla asked. "You look kinda sick."

The image of Dad watching Mom walk away was stuck in my mind. I couldn't believe she would threaten to leave him over something this stupid. It sickened me.

"Hey," Alex said, nudging me. "It's fine now. They're going on the mission together, happy as can be. Nothing to worry about."

This wasn't a little disagreement, though. This had been a HUGE fight. And, if you really thought about it, the whole thing had revolved around me. I stared at Alex. "And the whole world saw this, correct?"

"Well, not the _whole_ world, but a good portion of the English government did," Ayla admitted. "Everyone knows your parents, so, like, everyone wanted to watch them fight."

So I was known here because everyone knew Mom and Dad, and since they just had a fight involving me, I was an object of pity. That must be why Mother offered to take me while they were gone. He felt bad for jeopardizing their marriage, and wanted to help.

Mom seemed to think that I wasn't very open with her. I would have to correct that in the future.

***

Steed placed the bags down on the floor and surveyed the room. "Not as elegant as I expected," he said.

Emma took her coat off. "For what we're paying, it should have been the Royal Suite," she replied. She fell down on the bed. "Oof, it's stiff."

Steed looked at the clock on the nightstand. "Well, here it's midnight, and back home…" he pulled out his pocket watch, "it's almost morning."

"We should call Emery," Emma suggested. "She must be lonely."

"Don't worry about her. Knowing Emery, she's doing exactly what she does every morning," Steed said.

Emma looked at him, curious. "Which is?"

"Listen to music and wonder if there's chocolate hidden in cupboard," he told her, smiling.

"So that's where it all goes," Emma said with understanding. "My daughter has been stealing it in the middle of the night."

Steed sat down next to her. "So you're not mad about Monday, right?"

She took his hand. "Not in the least," she promised. She leaned forward to kiss him.

There was a sharp knock on the door, causing them to jump. Steed got up. "Now who could it be at this hour?" he wondered. He opened the door.

A man dressed in all black was standing in the doorway. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and he greeted them with a stern look. "Hello," he said.

Steed nodded and smiled. "Hello to you too, sir," he said back.

"Why are you up so late?" the man asked.

"I might ask you the same question," Steed replied. "Is that all?"

The man rolled his eyes, thinking. "Um, yeah, that's it," he said.

Steed kept his smile. "Thank you. Now if you would be kind enough not to disturb us again, the wife and I are a little busy."

"Y-yeah, sorry," the man apologized. He shifted nervously on his feet, and suddenly sprinted off down the hall.

"What was that about?" Emma asked, confused.

Steed closed the door and shrugged. "I'm not sure." He sat down next his wife. "Now where were we?"

They had already forgotten about the man, being so (*ahem* as Steed so quaintly put it) busy, but the man had certainly not forgotten about them. He ran down all the stairs, unaware that there was an elevator, and rushed out of the hotel. A car was waiting for him, and he leaped inside. The instant the door closed, the car was moving.

"It's him alright," the man told the driver. "He had a girl in the room with him."

"Oh?" said the driver. "Steed with a woman? How odd." He looked into the mirror, checking behind him for any signs of being followed. "I wonder if she means anything to him."

"He said she was his wife," the man claimed.

This statement took the driver by such surprise that he slammed on the brakes, nearly getting rear-ended by the car behind them. "He said _what?_"

"That she was his wife," he repeated. "His exact words were 'the wife and I are a little busy'."

"Get her," commanded the driver. "The first chance you get, I want her in this car as a hostage."

"Yes sir!" the man responded.

The driver grinned. "Good. See you tomorrow, Lois." He pulled over, and the- was it a man or a woman? - stepped out. The driver drove away, a plan already forming in his mind.


	4. 4 Friends and Enemies

**4 Friends and Enemies**

My first night in Mother's house was a little… weird.

First of all, I had my own master bedroom, with a giant bed that could fit five of me comfortably. Nancy was in the room next to me, on my other side was Ayla, and on her other side was Alex. Mother wouldn't allow us to see inside his room, but from the doors leading into it, I assumed it was the size and grandeur of a royal summer home.

For dinner, we ate pizza. No five-star chef working in his kitchen, no maids running through the enormous house, just Mother and a telephone to order food. I would get lonely in a big house like that with no one but the goldfish to talk to.

The entire house smelled of that sweet cigarette smoke, and there were tracks in the carpeting from his wheelchair. I found, in the strangest places, boxes of macaroons, and wondered how much fun it would be if they all vanished.

I woke up stiff, and it wasn't because the bed was uncomfortable. I wake up stiff whenever I'm in a bed other than my own. I think it's because I try not to move.

In fact, I was laying so stiffly in that enormous bed, sunken deeply into the overly squishy mattress, that it was impossible to move. Unfortunately, Ayla thought I was dead, and ran around my room screaming.

I snapped up into sitting position. "What the hell are you doing in my room!?" I cried.

Ayla ceased her screaming and smiled at me, relieved. "Oh, good, you're not dead. Whew. For a second there I was really worried."

I gaped at her. "Ayla," I said slowly. "It's Sunday. People sleep in, on Sunday. There's no need to wake up. On Sunday."

"Why are," she said. "You talking. Like this?"

I sighed. "Never mind. Why did you wake me up?"

"I wanted someone to make breakfast with," she said. "We're making cinnamon rolls."

I bit my lip. "Um, Ayla, I'm not the best person to cook with," I told her. "I mean, I was trying to bake cookies the other day and I, um, kinda blew up the kitchen."

Her expression became one of awe. "Oh my god how?"

"Dad brought a bomb home, and I thought it was a timer, so I set it for twenty minutes to bake the cookies, and it went off," I explained.

"That is SO cool!" Ayla cried. "From what I hear, you drive your parents crazy!" She said it like it was something to be proud of. "Like on the tape, your mom said you short-circuited the whole neighborhood."

"Only one block," I corrected her.

"Same thing," she said dismissively. "But you're a natural born troublemaker! And me and Alex? We're just wannabes compared to you."

A brilliant plan formed in my mind. "I've got an idea," I stated. "I'm a troublemaker, and you guys are trained agents, right?"

"Right," Ayla confirmed.

"Instead of hating each other, like you guys stealing my stuff and me making your lives miserable," (which, now that I think about it, I could have done very easily) "we can teach each other."

Ayla's expression changed from confused to amazed. "That's a great idea!" she cried. "Alex and I can teach you how to be a spy, and you can teach us how to wreak havoc like no other! Girl, you're a genius," she said with a grin. "You're going to be a natural at this."

And so, my very first friendship began to bloom. Starting with cinnamon rolls.

"Watch," Ayla commanded. She took the cinnamon roll dough and was trying to flatten it. "When you make pizza, you do this." She picked it up, hung it on her fist, and flicked it.

The dough went spinning into the air. I watched as it grew longer, fall back down, and land on Ayla's fist. "That's so cool," I said enviously.

She handed it to me. "Now you try," she said.

Nervous, I placed the dough on my fist and copied her motions. I flicked my wrist and the dough went up in the air. "I did it!" I exclaimed.

Unfortunately, Mother chose that exact moment to wheel into the kitchen. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he cried.

In this momentary distraction, the dough came back down and landed on my head. My vision was obscured by the thick dough. "Eek!" I screamed. "It's in my hair! Get it off get it off get it off!"

Ayla was laughing at me, Mother was swearing at us, and I was clawing at our sticky creation in a mad attempt to get it off. I could feel it pulling my hair away from my scalp. "Help!" I yelled.

Hands started pulling the dough away in pieces. When my eyes were uncovered, I saw Nancy and Ayla, both giggling, tearing the dough away from my face. "How did you do that?" Nancy asked, a smile etched on her face.

I stuck my tongue out and wound up eating dough. "Yuck," I said. "Dough doesn't taste very good by itself."

"So much for cinnamon rolls," Ayla laughed. "Shall we try waffles?"

"What?" Mother cried. "You'll do no more in my kitchen, that's for sure! Out, out! Go find a movie to watch or something!"

We paraded into the other room, Ayla and Nancy still picking stuff out of my hair. "Mother doesn't seem to be in a very good mood," Ayla said.

Nancy didn't look at her, concentrating intently on some stubborn dough. "Don't do anything that will hurt him," she warned her.

I felt a smile playing on my lips. "I've got some ideas," I said.

"You're on their side now?" Nancy questioned, bewildered. "How did that happen?"

Ayla beamed proudly. "It's the three of us now. We're an unstoppable force, like a hurricane, turning anything that gets in our way upside down and inside out."

Nancy shot her a glare, and Ayla shrunk away in fright. "If you _three_ do anything troublesome, I swear, Emery, I'm telling your parents."

I spun around, whacking her in the face with dough-laden hair. "You wouldn't!" I wailed.

"Watch me," she said.

If my parents found out I did something to their boss, I would be skinned alive.

Ayla just shrugged. "Wait until he pisses you off, Nancy. Then you won't mind our shenanigans so much."

"I'll look forward to it," Nancy snapped. She looked down at me. "Sorry, honey, but you're going to have to shower. There's no way I can get that all out."

I ran a hand through my clumpy hair and shrugged. "Okay." I trumped off to my room, my mind whirring.

So if I decided to skip school, blow up a kitchen, steal macaroons, or any other sort of thing classified as trouble, my parents would know about it and I would be _screwed._ Unless I got Nancy on my side.

Was I that devious? Was I capable of dragging a perfectly good person over to the dark side? "Only if I can get her cookies," I said hopelessly. "Without blowing something up."

I closed the door to my room behind me and went to the shower. Briefly I wondered if the dough would clog up the drain, but then I realized I didn't care. Tomorrow I would have to go to school, endure the boring lectures of my physics teacher, and fail my English course. The only thing I really understood was math, believe it or not. And I'm sure if I used it more often in every day life, I wouldn't have all the problems I did.

Like how I could have calculated how long that freaking dough would have been in the air and saved myself from a head full of sticky uncooked bread. Or simply used the clock to bake the cookies instead of a bomb and prevented the destruction of half the house.

After my shower and mental put downs, I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Very rarely did I dress to impress.

"Emery!" Ayla called. The door knob turned, although I was certain I'd locked it, and she burst into the room. She had my cell phone in her hand. "Your dad wants to talk to you. Oh, and I took this before we made our agreement," she explained as she handed the phone to me. "Sorry."

I raised the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"I told you the twins were sly," Dad said. "Is your mother there?"

I pulled the phone away to stare at it confusion. "Why would she be here? I thought she was with you."

He paused. "It would seem Emma is AWOL at the moment. I thought she went back to London."

"No, Dad. Mom's not here," I said with certainty. Since when did Dad use the term AWOL?

"Oh." In that one word, there was panic, fear, and betrayal. And in the next sentence, it was all gone. "Then she must be here still. I'll look around. Goodbye, darling." And Dad hung up.

I pressed the end button. Mom was missing. Not good.

***

John Steed placed the phone back on the receiver. He had woken up that morning in the stiff hotel bed to find the other side of it empty. Assuming Emma had gone down for breakfast, he dressed and went to join her.

When his wife wasn't there, he wondered if he had somehow missed her on his way down. So he went back up the stairs to find their room empty, their bags still packed up on the floor and the bed still unmade. Steed paced the room for a moment, contemplating.

Suddenly he remembered that Emma had been worried about Emery. He picked up the phone and called the house, but no one answered. He called Emma's phone, but it was off. He called Emery's phone, and according to her Emma was certainly not in London.

Had Emma finally gotten tired of him and walked out? No, she would have confronted him about it or at least left a note. It wasn't like her to disappear without a trace.

Well, if he thought about all the missions they had done in the past, it was very much like Emma to disappear without a trace, but only if she had been-

"Kidnapped," he whispered. No, no, it couldn't be! It was the first day into the mission, there was no way their presence was already known. The only people they had spoken to were the airport stewardess, the cab driver, the hotel receptionist, and the man who had come to their door.

Although anyone could have seen them.

Steed stumbled onto the bed, fear enveloping him. He needed help, desperately. And there was only one person who could help him in a time like this.

He hoped he still had the address.

***

Emma blinked awake, feeling strangely drowsy. Her vision was blurry, and she yawned widely. "John?" she mumbled. "Stop hogging the blankets. It's terribly cold."

"Emma Peel. Amazing."

Her eyes snapped open completely. She tried to sit up, but she was bound to the table she was laying on. The voice was certainly not Steed's, not the in the least. "Who's there?"

"You don't know me," said the man, who she now saw on the other side of a glass wall, "but I certainly know you."

Emma gasped, nervous. "Where am I?" she questioned.

"To think," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "that you married John Steed. Of all people, it was him. And you have a little girl, yes?"

She stiffened and didn't reply.

"Emery Lynn Steed," said the man. "A beautiful name, and no doubt a beautiful young lady. She must mean very much to you and Steed."

Emma tried to figure out what she was wearing. It appeared to be a gown, not something she owned. They had taken everything she had been wearing, even her wedding ring. "Where's John?" she said in a strangled voice.

"Oh, he'll be here, no doubt about that." The man walked out from behind the glass and into the room with her. "He always shows up when his partner's in danger." He paused and smiled at her. "Though you're much more than that to him, aren't you?"

The man was tall, taller than Steed. He had a smirk on his face, and he smelled of disinfectant. "Who are you?" she asked again.

"My name is David Keel," he replied, "though the name is nothing to you. I've been watching your husband for quite some time now, though not as carefully as I initially thought. To think, he got married and had a daughter without my noticing!" He shook his head, displeased. "Naturally, those men have been replaced with much more observant ones."

Emma looked around the room, searching for an escape, another face, anything. Keel sat down on the table and began rubbing her exposed calf. Emma wanted to kick him desperately.

"But I know all about you and Emery now, don't you worry about that," Keel continued. "In fact, I'm watching her right now."

She stiffened. Emery was in danger.

His hand moved up to the crook of her knee, irritating her. If he went any higher… "As soon as Steed comes," he said nonchalantly, "I'm going to kill her."

"You won't touch my daughter," she spat.

He was tickling the back of her thigh now, making it itch. He smiled at her. "Oh no, I wouldn't dream of hurting a beautiful woman like yourself. I'm just after Steed." Now he was under the dress she wore, rubbing just under her bottom. "I have a score to settle with him. And I'm going to make it as painful as possible."

Had she not been restrained, Dr. David Keel would be a bloody heap on the floor by now. But the leather straps were tight and unmoving. "Get your filthy hands away from me," she said through gritted teeth.

"Imagine if Steed were to walk in right now, and see what I was doing to you," he laughed. "Oh, wouldn't he be angry!"

Something started ringing, and Keel removed his hand to go and investigate. Emma fought against the straps that held her down. She, her husband, and her baby were in danger. She had to free herself, protect them. Hot tears welled in her eyes and blinded her. Her breaths came in terrified gasps. She could handle her own death: not theirs.

"My good friend!" she heard Keel say from the other room. "It's been so many years, Steed."

Emma froze, and to her horror she heard her husband's voice. "Too long, Keel. Much too long. I know it's improper to simply drop in like this, but I have a favor to ask you, and you were the only person I knew who lived in New York."

"Anything, anytime, Steed!" Keel said jovially. "Here, let me get you a drink."

"Thank you," Steed replied. "I really could use one now."

"Brandy?" guessed Keel.

"Whatever you have is fine with me."

She heard the chinking of glasses, and a cork being pulled off a bottle. "You seem distraught, my friend," he observed. "No witty greeting today, eh?"

"It's what I need your help with," Steed told him. He paused, and she assumed he was taking a drink. "My wife. She's disappeared."

Emma struggled even harder. _I'm right here, John!_ she wailed inwardly. _Like old times, I'm right here, waiting to be saved!_

"Really?" asked Keel. "That's a shame. I can see why you need a drink. You need help finding her, I assume?"

Emma was surprised to hear Steed stuttering, as if he were… _drunk?_ "Y-yes, Keel, she's… she's simply van… van… gone!" It sounded as if something got knocked over. "S-sorry about that. What kind… kind… of drink is this?"

"A fascinating little creation of my own," Keel said, and Emma detected an evil smile on his lips. "One sip, and the drinker is completely incompetent, or, in common terms, drunk."

She pictured Steed stumbling now, fighting to keep his balance, the way he did the few times she had seen him in such a state. Another moment, and he would pass out.

Emma started screaming then. "JOHN!" she cried. "RUN! RUN JOHN, GET OUT OF HERE!"

"Emma!" he slurred, and she heard his unconscious body hit the floor.


	5. 5 Memories, New and Old

**5 Memories, New and Old **

Steed opened his eyes and found the light far too bright. He squeezed them shut and massaged his temples. He had a tremendous headache.

"Let go of me!" someone demanded, and Steed recognized the voice as Emma's. He forced his eyes open and saw he was in what appeared to be a cell, or perhaps a cage. Emma was being handled roughly, and was tossed into the cage with him. "You bastard!" she cursed. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes red and swollen. She was yelling entirely too loud.

"Emma?" he said softly.

"John!" she sobbed, and she fell onto him, weeping uncontrollably into his shoulder. "He knows everything about us, everything!"

He held her gently. "Emma, please lower your voice, and tell me who we're talking about."

She pulled away to stare at him with her puffy eyes. "Your friend Keel," she spat, and sobs took over her voice once more. "He's going to kill her, John. _He's going to kill her!_"

Once again, she was too loud. He tried to recall seeing Keel, but his mind was fuzzy. "You'll have to fill me in, dear. I don't have the slightest clue as to what you're talking about."

Emma pulled back and slapped him so hard that Steed saw stars. "Dr. Keel is going to kill our baby girl!" she yelled in his ear.

Steed winced at the volume in her voice, and couldn't believe what she was saying. "Keel wouldn't do that," he assured her. "He's a very good friend of mine, someone I would entrust my life to."

"I'm so glad you still feel that way."

Steed turned his head, slowly so his ears wouldn't start ringing. "Keel!" he exclaimed. "What impeccable timing you have, my friend. Care to let us out of this oversize dog kennel?"

Keel had an odd smirk on his face. His arms were folded across his chest as he paced slowly around the cage. Steed watched him, confused. From what he could tell, the door was on the _other_ side of the cell.

"It seems you've forgotten our little incident," Keel remarked. "No need to worry though, I'll remind you."

And as Keel recounted how Steed had come to him in search of Emma, and how he had deceived him, Steed realized something very earth shattering. His friend, his very first partner, was bent on revenge.

What a stupid thing to be angry about, for Keel to go to such great lengths. It had been a small mistake on Steed's part, and not entirely his fault. Keel had had a new girlfriend, someone he liked very much. Steed remembered Keel telling him, under the influence of alcohol, that he was in love again, and he wanted to marry her. Steed found himself unable to recall her name.

They had gone on an expedition in South America, tracking the killer of some political candidate or other, and the woman had come with them. Steed had fallen at one point, and injured his leg. He had been entirely focused on not falling again as they clambered their way on the edge of a cliff. A horribly dangerous place to be, and he was too worried about himself to think of her.

She had been behind him, Keel in front. When they'd heard rock crumble away, they had turned around too late, and she had gone.

_Not that stupid, never mind,_ he thought. Had Emma died because of Keel, he probably would be angry too, but… not murderous.

"And so," Keel continued, "to show you just how much pain I'm in, I'm going to take your wife from you, and kill your Emery."

Steed's mind raced. He had to talk fast, and this may be the only chance he had to save his family. "Emery?" he repeated. "Who's Emery?"

Emma gaped at him, her tears replaced by pure fury. She was going to hate him for this, he knew it. She backed away from him slowly.

Keel's cruel smile fell. "Your Emery," he said again. "Emery Lynn Steed?"

"Oh! Is that her name?" Steed shook his head. The words were tearing him apart, burning a hole in his stomach. "Funny, I don't call her that much. I'm sure if you killed her, I wouldn't even notice she was gone."

Emma looked ready to kick him where it hurt. He refused to make eye contact with her. Keel, however, paused, confused. "You really wouldn't care?" he asked.

"Well, it seems like it would hurt my wife, and I'd hate to see my trophy cry," Steed told him with a wink. _Emma's going to kill me for this. She'll never forgive me._

She was silent, as was Keel, but both for very different reasons.

Keel leaned against the wall, thinking. "Huh," was all he said. "Interesting."

_Please fall for it,_ Steed prayed. _Please believe the lies I say. I'll burn in hell for saying them, but take the bait._ "If I were you, and I wanted to torture me, this is not the way I would have gone about it," he remarked.

"Really? Then how would you have done it?" questioned Keel.

Steed laughed, yet he felt sick inside. "Now why would I tell you that?"

Keel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It seems I need to rethink my strategy," he said, more to himself than his prisoners. He walked out of the basement, and they heard him trump up the stairs.

"If he's not going to kill you," Emma hissed, "I assure you I will. And then I'm leaving." She huddled into the corner farthest away from him, her eyes dark and angry.

"Emma," he began.

"Don't you _dare_ call me that!" she snapped. "Don't you even talk to me, you two-faced dog!"

"Are you and Emery still alive or not?" Steed retorted. "I just saved the two of you, and I'm sorry I had to say those things to do it." He leaned his head back against the bars. "I deserve every bit of your venom for those awful words I said."

Emma hesitated, trying to look past her anger to see what his words had accomplished. He was right, though she hated to admit it. Emery was still alive, despite the fact that Keel had said he would kill her as soon as Steed showed up. And he wasn't touching her, like he had while she had been strapped to the table.

Steed _had _saved them. She glared at him. "I'm still angry," she muttered. "'Trophy.' Hmph," she snorted.

"Can you forgive me?" he asked.

"Fine," she snarled. "But don't you dare come near me. I'm highly likely to bite."

Steed sighed. She was mad, but forgiving. He closed his eyes and decided it really wasn't a good time to strike up a conversation. Instead, he retreated into his mind and let plans form.

***

"You don't know how to pick a lock?" Alex said in disbelief.

I shifted my weight, feeling embarrassed. "No," I admitted. "Nor can a good portion of the world's population."

"Yeah, but your parents are like the top agents in the Ministry!" Alex exclaimed. He whistled. "Did you resent them or something?"

"I didn't even know they were secret agents until two days ago!" I cried.

Ayla smiled. "Which is why this is going to be so much fun to teach you. You're a total amateur!"

"And weapon of mass destruction," I reminded her. "Just wait till Nancy is on our side."

Alex snorted. "What, do you have powers of persuasion too?"

I shrugged. "Never tried it. Is it a lot like lying?"

"Kinda," Ayla replied.

"I'm a terrible liar," I said. "Or so my parents say."

"The only one of us Nancy remotely trusts and she can't tell a lie," Alex cried in exasperation. "So much for having any fun."

"I can _totally_ tell a lie!" I said, completely contradicting what I had just said. "I just need a bit of practice."

Alex rolled his eyes and glared at his sister. "You can't possibly think we can pull this off, can you?"

"Her parents are John and Emma Steed," Ayla snapped. "So yes, I think _she_ can."

Alex didn't look too happy about it, but he remained silent.

Ayla grinned at me and took me to the locked bathroom door. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and handed it to me. "Do your worst."

I stared at it. This tiny, strangely shaped piece of metal was going to open _that_ ornate door? I don't _think_ so.

Ayla was watching me expectantly, so I took the bobby pin, knelt down, and jammed it into the lock.

"No, no," she said, stopping me. "Don't jam it, be gentle."

"Proof she's hopeless," Alex called.

"Hypocrite," Ayla retorted, and he didn't reply. She turned back to me. "Be smooth. Like a guy with a virgin."

I turned to stare at her, my mouth open in disgust. "Did you really just say that?" I asked.

"'Course I did. Now will you listen to it?"

I couldn't think of what I was doing anymore. Every time I fit the pin in the lock, a wave of repulsion would wash over me, and I simply couldn't do it. "Why did you have to say that?" I whined. "Now every time I try and do this, _that's_ what I'll think of!"

Ayla rolled her eyes and snatched the pin from my hands. "Watch me. You simply slide it in-."

"Ew ew ew no _don't_ use that word to describe this!" I cried. "Please, that's _so_ nasty."

She looked at her brother. "Sorry I ever contradicted you, Alex," she apologized.

"No, no, continue. It was entertaining," he said with a grin.

I glared at him, and suddenly I was determined to prove that I could do it. I wanted to be better than that smug, clever guy. So I knelt down, shoved that pin in that lock, and jiggled it around.

The door was open before they even saw what I was doing. I tossed the bobby pin in the air and caught it again, feeling immensely smug. "Sorry it took so long," I mocked.

Alex and Ayla gaped, their perfect faces now wearing a look of shock. I grinned at their surprise, and thought, _Well, I _am_ the daughter of John and Emma Steed. What did they expect?_ "What's next?" I asked.

***

Emma was exceptionally angry with her husband, and then exceptionally angry with herself. Leave him? How could she live without him? Why did she ever say those words? Twice! _I must have hurt him when I said that,_ she thought. _Perhaps I should apologize._

_No,_ said another part of her. _Let him apologize first. You don't regret your actions. And it got you what you wanted. _

She huddled deeper into her corner and wished she could just get out of the cage and karate chop something in half, preferably Keel. She also wished it was before she and Steed had married, when she still had wonderfully witty comments to counter everything he had to say and they never fought, and their love was simple. Just each other, no one else to worry about.

Emma remembered the day she had discovered she was pregnant. She had been married to Steed for two years, and still called him Steed on occasion. Worried, she told him about her condition, and they had decided that she should hide it while she could, and when her stomach started to bulge, she would take a leave from work.

They didn't want anyone to know they were having a child. They would certainly lose their jobs, like they almost had when they announced their engagement. It would be harder, they knew, when the baby was born, but they could pull it off. Home-school the child, be certain no one was watching them when they took it outside, never mention it to anyone, and raise it oblivious to their profession.

And then she was born, and they were finding it hard to remember their plan. Emma and Steed occasionally slipped up while talking to each other, mentioning Emery. Some days they came to work in clothes that smelled of formula, having accidentally grabbed a dirty shirt. Sometimes Emma was so tired she could barely stand from waking in the middle of the night to tend to her.

Yet they loved her. Steed was second-guessing his judgment on home-school. There wouldn't be time, and they wanted their baby to have friends. Their associates began to suspect something, but weren't certain until Emery was two years old.

Someone had followed them home, had seen the toddler answer the door and cry "Mummy! Daddy!" and wobble into their waiting arms.

The shouting match the next day was incredible. Father and Mother screamed until they were hoarse, and Steed and Emma took the beating silently, aware that their careers were over. There were many threats, arguments of memory wipes, and the like. By the end of the day, the whole of Parliament knew that two people named Steed and Emma had a daughter and were about to lose their jobs for her.

Emma remembered looking over at Steed to see him smirking. She couldn't understand it. Why would he smirk? They were going to lose everything they had worked so hard for. Everything.

And when Father had screamed with all that was left in her voice that they were fired, Steed had grinned and said, "Spectacular. How long until we're replaced?"

There had been a silence in the room, until finally Mother sighed and said, "They're the top agents we have. I think we're stuck with them."

She giggled quietly at the memory. Steed raised his head and looked at her. "What are you laughing about?" he asked, confused.

"The day everyone found out about Emery," she admitted.

"Oh," he said, and leaned back against the bars. "I was thinking about our mess of a wedding."

Emma laughed openly at this. "It was truly a fabulous shower, I must admit."

"The party or the rain?"

She shrugged. "Both. And the look on your face when I introduced you to my mother," she remembered.

Steed shuddered at the memory. "She was brutal. I don't think anyone ever asked me so many questions about my personal life. Or whether or not I had corrupted her daughter."

A smile danced on her lips. "She wasn't _that_ bad."

"Oh no, no I think my mother was much worse," Steed said. "She nearly broke your back when she tried to give you a hug."

"I don't know how you survived off the food she cooked," Emma stated. "That was the strangest tasting steak I've ever eaten."

"I was a vegetarian in those days," he said with a wink. "That is, until you started cooking for me."

She smiled. "I didn't know my skills were so superb. Is there a reason you never mentioned it before?"

Steed thought about it for a little bit. "Perhaps I didn't want it to go to your head. Besides, it would've made you feel even worse when Emery blew up the kitchen."

Emma found herself laughing, and eventually, she crawled back over to her husband's arms and fell asleep, feeling absolutely safe.

Steed felt the exact opposite.


	6. 6 Man Lady and Macaroons

**6 Man Lady and Macaroons**

It was another two days before Nancy joined us.

I pride myself in bringing her over to the dark side, since, technically, the whole thing was my fault.

Yes, it started out as an accident, like everything else in my life. I came home from school, tired and weary, and went looking for the twins (who, by the way, have already gotten their G. and taken online classes at some of the best universities in the world yadda yadda yadda and don't have to go to school).

I was unable to find my mischievous friends, so I went to Nancy.

"Nancy? Have you seen the twins?" I asked innocently.

Nancy dropped the dish she was washing (why she was washing dishes in someone else's house, I'll never know) and gaped at me. "They're not here?" she said in disbelief.

I shook my head. "I've looked all over the house and outside. They're not anywhere."

The look on her face was one of utmost horror, and for a moment I thought I shouldn't have gone to her. I had obviously upset her. "Sorry," I said quickly. "I'll go… look some more."

"MOTHER!" she screamed suddenly, causing me to jump.

He wheeled into the kitchen, a pained look on his face. "Must all you woman yell so loud? I'm right here, you know."

"Where are the twins?" she asked immediately.

"The twins?" Mother repeated. "Why, they're watching the telly in the other room. Ayla?" he called. "Alex?"

There wasn't a reply.

We wandered into the other room to see the television on, but no one in the room. Mother looked around wildly. "They were here just a moment ago!" he cried.

"I've looked all over," I told him. "They aren't anywhere."

Nancy turned to him and began screaming. "I told you to watch them while I went shopping! I made it _very clear_ that you would only have to watch them for a few minutes! And what do you do? You turn your back, and now look what's happened! They could have wandered outside, been kidnapped, killed, raped! All because you couldn't watch two teenagers for a half hour!"

Mother cringed at the ferocity of her fury. I was about to point out that the twins were a little too fast for any of the things she listed to happen to them, but I didn't want to face her wrath anymore than Mother did.

And, somehow, I realized this would actually work out for the three of us.

She broke down in tears. "Where are they? The poor, poor things! Imagine if a blizzard came and they froze. Or an earthquake! They could be buried beneath the remnants of some building. What if there was a flood? Alex can't swim! Oh, they can't be out by themselves! They'll get hurt!" Nancy was sobbing uncontrollably now.

Mother grimaced, and looked immensely guilty. "Now, now, Nancy," he consoled, patting her back.

She practically bit his hand off. "It's _your_ fault they're gone!" she barked.

It wasn't until late that night, while I was trying to comprehend my impossible physics homework, that I heard the latch on my window open. I looked up, terrified, and slid under the desk so I wouldn't be seen. Under the desk was my secret hiding place everywhere I went. No one ever looked under the desk.

From between the bars of the chair, I saw the window open slowly, and someone clamber inside. She landed on all fours, cat like. "Emery?" they called.

I pushed the chair out and stared. "Ayla?" I wondered.

"And Alex," grunted the second figure climbing through my window. He was less graceful than his sister and fell onto the carpet.

"Where've you two been?" I asked.

Alex stood and brushed himself off. "Looking for you," he replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "I was missing?"

"We decided to go to your school and free you," Ayla admitted. "It was just too boring without you here. But we got lost."

"We weren't lost," Alex snapped. "I just… forgot where your school was."

"And the way back," Ayla chided.

He glowered and said nothing.

Ayla turned back to me. "Anyways, we were intending to free you from your educational prison, and didn't get back until now." She glanced at her brother. "Maybe next time we should take a map."

Alex made a face.

"Nancy's distraught," I informed them, proud of my use of the word. "She's been crying her eyes out for ages." I glanced between the two of them. "Did either of you happen to get hurt?"

"I fell," Alex said, "but only because she pushed me." We all looked at his knee to see a bloody mess.

I felt a smile creep up my lips. "This'll be perfect. I think we can get Nancy with us. But you guys have to go back outside."

"What?" Ayla cried. "I don't wanna go back out there!"

"Trust me," I insisted. "And go… rub dirt on your faces and mess up your hair and maybe rip your clothes, too." I pulled my phone out to check the time. "It's almost midnight. You guys go around the front door and ring the doorbell, okay? And act tired. Like you've been running for five hours straight."

They gave me queer looks as I ushered them out the window. As soon as they were down, I closed it and locked it again, and waited for the doorbell to ring.

The beauty of Mother's doorbell is that it's not the classic "ding dong" the whole world recognizes and can't here if the TV's on too loud. No sir, it's a big, huge gong that resonates in the air for minutes after it's rang and can be heard within a two mile radius of the house. So when Ayla and Alex rang it, it woke Nancy and Mother for sure.

I went sprinting to the door, determined to get there first. Nancy wasn't far behind, swollen eyes hopeful. Mother came next, his wheelchair squeaking as he turned into the entrance.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Mother said, annoyed.

I opened the door, and there stood Ayla and Alex.

Have to admit, I was impressed. They had mud smeared on their faces and clothes, their hair tangled and messy, and their eyes drooping and miserable. "N-Nancy?" Ayla managed, blinking in her exhaustion.

Nancy practically fell on the two of them, sobbing beyond control. "You guys are alive! Oh, I was so worried I'd never see you again and look at you! You're such a mess, the both of you. No thanks to _you_," she spat at Mother. She placed her arms around the twins and ushered them to her room, cooing and fussing and crying at the state of them.

Nancy would never forgive Mother for losing the twins, or at least not anytime soon. I had brought her to the dark side.

In the morning, Mother would wake to find all his macaroons in the wrong places, if he found them at all.

***

Alex whistled. "Look at that!" he exclaimed.

The three of us were out, walking around. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but Nancy was willing to let go of the twins "as long as they promised to be back by five!" and allow us to enjoy ourselves. By some miracle, I had gotten no homework, so I was relishing in my freedom while I had it.

The twins stepped around the rubble of the kitchen and stared. "How did you _do_ this?" Ayla cried.

I shrugged. "Just happens to be my luck."

Alex gaped. "You know, if we did this, we would be in an orphanage until the day we turned eighteen." Suddenly, he stiffened. "What was that?"

Ayla whipped around. "What? I didn't hear it."

A soft _click,_ so faint it could have been a mouse walking, sounded off somewhere to the right. I felt my muscles tense. My mind started to whir. Memories that hadn't been touched in years pushed their way to the surface. I had heard that kind of click before. An image of Dad appeared in my mind, my view blocked by Mom's arms. He had something in his hands.

Dad cocked the gun.

I gasped. "Gun!" I whispered. On sheer instinct I grabbed Ayla and Alex, pulling them to the ground with me right as the gun fired. It went through the air I had been standing in only seconds before.

Alex and Ayla's spy training kicked in right about then, and while Alex and I slunk towards safety, Ayla went around to find the shooter.

"It was pretty loud," Alex was whispering to her as we crept. "So he can't be far away. But he hasn't shot again. Maybe he thinks he hit his target."

I swallowed hard at the realization that I had been the target.

"If he thinks that, he'd already be gone," Ayla hissed at him.

"How do you know he's still here?" countered Alex.

Ayla remained where she was, frozen. "His gun is pointed right at me."

"I am _not_ a guy!" the person cried, and they came out of their hiding place.

Well, it _wasn't_ a guy. She was short, muscular, and stocky, but she wasn't a guy. Her hair was chopped short, and it wasn't hard to picture her with a mustache, but she still wasn't a guy.

"Which one of you is Emery?" she asked, her gun aiming between the three of us. "Don't be shy: Emery's the one who lives the longest."

None of us moved. The girl rolled her eyes. "C'mon. I've only got room for one of you in my bag. And the boss says it's gotta be Emery."

"Who's the boss?" I asked.

She turned the gun on me. "If you're Emery, you'll know soon enough."

"Does this have anything to do with Mr. Steed?" Alex questioned. He was visibly shaking. Evidently, being held at gunpoint wasn't covered in spy school.

The gun was on him now. "Yes, actually, it does," she said. "And since I'm going to kill you, I guess I can tell you what you're dying for." The girl began to walk around, trying to get behind us. "This, as you can see, is the lavish apartment of Steed, Peel, and their daughter, Emery. Since my boss is bent on making Steed suffer, I'm supposed to get Emery and bring her back. He _was _just going to have me kill you on the spot, but he decided that torturing you in front of him would be much more satisfying."

I gaped. This manly chick was going to kill Ayla and Alex, stuff me in a bag, and torture me in front of my parents. That is freaking scary.

Ayla stepped forward. The girl pointed the gun at her. "So…," she began, getting closer, "you're going to kill those two and take me to be tortured in front of my parents? Are you really that cold?"

Alex and I stared at her. What was she doing? Saving her own skin while we died at her expense? What a bitch! She kept creeping closer to the man lady, a curious expression on her treacherous face.

"Yeah, I am. I suggest you step back a bit, Emery, before I blow pretty boy's head off," the he-she warned.

"You won't do that," Ayla said with a devious smile.

She cocked the gun. "Won't I?"

Suddenly, Ayla lunged forward with such speed that I nearly missed it. She snatched the gun from the man lady's hands and turned it. "Told ya," she teased. "Now, who do you work for?"

The he-she spat at her feet. "Can't make me talk," she snapped.

Alex came up behind her and yanked her arms back painfully. "Talk, or I'll break your arms off," he threatened.

I went to stand next to Ayla, my arms folded across my chest like I was some bad ass chick that could beat up anybody. "What's your name?" I asked.

Ayla looked at me, her expression incredulous. "Do we really need to know that?" she said, exasperated.

"It could be useful," I supplied. "I mean, maybe we could testify in court, and she could be our witness or something."

She rolled her eyes. "Em, listen, we might have to kill this person. Knowing her name isn't going to make a difference in our decision." Ayla got the gun ready to shoot. "Now, man lady, why did you want to take Emery?"

Man Lady gasped in pain. "To make Steed miserable."

"Where is he?" Alex prompted, tightening his hold. "How do you know taking her would hurt him?"

"He's in… New York," she managed, biting her lip in pain. "In Keel's basement."

Keel? Keel… why did that name sound so familiar? I walked through the ruins of my house, to the mantle of the fireplace that held all our pictures. There were no recent ones of me, only baby pictures that could in no way be identified with who I was now. The only photos were ones of Dad. In one, he was with another man, while the other had him standing with a woman. There was a picture of him with Mom, though it was long before they were married. The final pictures had Dad with a girl he called Tara, and the last one contained him, a girl named Purdey, and a guy he called Mike Gambit.

I used to think the last guy was somehow related to X-Men. I also used to wonder why the only picture of Mom and Dad on their wedding was locked in a box under the bed. Now, I understood.

At one time, I had asked Dad who the people were in the pictures, and he had named them. Keel… Keel had to be one of them. But was Keel a first name or last? Guy or girl? God, I was never good at these guessing games.

"Keel's basement?" Alex repeated. "You mean you have him captive? John Steed, captive?!"

"Yes, you ignorant brat!" cried Man Lady. "Let go of me already!"

"We've got to tell Mother," Alex said to his sister, keeping his hold on Man Lady.

Ayla nodded. "Let's take the creature with us. Care to walk?" she asked her.

"What if I don't?" she spat.

I shrugged. "We can stuff you in a bag. Personally, I think walking is more dignified, but it's your choice," I told her.

Man Lady scowled at me. "Fine," she growled, wrenching her arms from Alex's loosened grasp. "I'll walk."

Ayla showed her the gun. "Make one false move, and you'll be limping, _chica_."

***

When Mother came into the kitchen, I think it's safe to assume he had a heart attack. I suppose I would too if I wheeled into my house and saw three teenagers staring at a man lady they had hog tied and hanging from the ceiling.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!?" he cried. "Who is that? Where did he come from? _WHY IS HE IN MY HOUSE?_"

"She," Man Lady corrected.

"She says my parents are captive," I said to him. "How do we find them?"

Mother laughed. "Your parents are on their mission, safe and sound. When you start believing transvestites, you'll believe lies."

"I am _not_ a transvestite!" Man Lady cried.

A sudden idea struck me, and I pulled out my multi-purpose mystery gadget. "I bet this thing could tell for sure," I said happily.

Ayla looked at it. "How, exactly?" she questioned.

I pushed a button on the side, and something came up on the tiny screen. After a bit of guessing, the perfect thing popped up. "Global tracking device," I read. "Huh. Nifty."

"Your parents have cell phones?" asked Alex. When I nodded, his face lit up. "You can type in their numbers and they should come up."

"But how will we know if they're in danger or not?" Ayla continued.

I shrugged. "Call them?"

"You know," Nancy said, entering the kitchen, "that just might work."

***

When Steed's cell phone rang, he very nearly jumped out of his skin. He reached into his pocket and fumbled to answer it, aware of Emma's accusing stare and of Keel's footsteps as he made his way down the stairs.

"H-hello?" he said.

"Daddy?"

His heart skipped a beat. What was Emery calling him for? And since when did she call him Daddy? "Yes?" he replied in as calm a voice as he could.

Keel appeared at the base of the steps, his expression livid. "You have a phone?" he hissed.

"This isn't really Emery, you know. It's Ayla. Just in case the bad guy holding you captive happens to grab the phone and hear her talk," Ayla explained. "Now say, 'Of course, dear.'."

"Of course, dear," he repeated.

"Awesome," Ayla said. "Now, are you being held prisoner or is this all just a waste of my time?"

There was a little commotion on the other end, someone saying "Don't say that, Ayla! He's my _father!_"

"We are," Steed said. "Your mother and I, we are."

Emma gave him a look that was a mix between panic and disbelief. Keel was simply outraged. He began rifling through his pockets, in search of his gun.

"Okay," Ayla said. "That's all we need to know. We're coming."

"What?" Steed cried. "NO! What are you-?" But she had hung up. Trembling, he pulled the phone away from his ear to find himself staring down the barrel of Keel's gun through the bars.

"Slide the phone through the bars," Keel commanded in a low voice, "or I'll shoot her." He turned the gun on Emma.

Steed felt the color drain from his face.

"Ah ha," he laughed, and cocked the gun. "I knew you cared for her, and the child. I know how you work, Steed. Now put the phone through the bars."

His eyes fixed to the gun in his former partner's hand, Steed leaned and shoved the cell phone through the bars of their cage. He swallowed. "Okay," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "You can put the gun down now."

Keel met his frightened stare. "In a minute," and he pulled the trigger.


	7. 7 Gunshots and Kinky Boots

**7 Gunshots and Kinky Boots  
**

"Of course," Alex complained, "when we announce we're going on a mission to save the greatest agents in the ministry, Mother blows a gasket and locks us in our rooms."

"But you got out," I pointed out. "Otherwise, the two of you would still be in your own rooms and I'd be in here all by myself."

"This is because we took the macaroons," Ayla said. She reached under my bed and pulled out one of the boxes of cookies. "Macaroon, anyone?"

I pulled out the multi-purpose mystery gadget. "Over 900 uses," I murmured. "How can it help us now? My parents are being held prisoner in New York, and I'm just sitting here, doing nothing!"

"Mother said he would get some of other agents to rescue them," Alex said, accepting a macaroon from his sister. "Bullshit."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

Ayla licked her fingers and lay back on my bed. "Because all the agents capable of going there have already gone, and haven't come back. Why else would your parents have had to go?"

"What was the mission, anyways?" Alex said, staring at the ceiling. "I don't think I ever heard what it really was."

They looked at me expectantly. I blinked. "What, you think _I_ know what the mission is? I didn't even know about this until a few days ago," I said.

"Then let's ask Nancy," Ayla announced. She swung her legs off the bed and went to the wall, where she knocked loudly. "Nancy?" she called. "Come over here, we need to talk to you."

"Ayla? What are you doing in Emery's room?" Nancy replied.

"Mixing drugs. You coming or what?"

We heard Nancy practically fall out of her bed at Ayla's words and sprint over to my room as fast as she could. She yanked the door open, looking flustered. "You're doing _what?_" she cried.

"Good, you're here," Alex said. "What was the mission Mr. Steed went on?"

Nancy surveyed the room uncertainly. "You're not mixing drugs, right?" she interrogated.

"No, Nancy," I promised. "Do you know what mission my parents went on?"

Now that she knew there were no drugs, she calmed down and sat next to Alex on the floor. "They went to New York on a reconnaissance mission. We had heard something about a gang that was taking over the U.S., and that they had plans to go international. Naturally, we panicked, sent people over, and they didn't come back. So we sent more people to find the first people and collect information, and _they_ didn't come back, and so on, until we had to resort to your father."

"And now they're not coming back," I said with crushing realization.

"You could have had one parent," Ayla pointed out, "if your mom wasn't so stubborn."

Nancy smacked her. "That was _not_ nice."

But the damage had been done. I stood up, so furious I wouldn't have been surprised if my hair had been waving around my head like electricity. "My parents love each other very deeply," I insisted. "I will not let them die in New York, not when there's something I can do about it." I stepped over to where my backpack lay on the floor and yanked out all my textbooks.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked as I began stuffing the bag with various items from around the room.

"Packing," I snapped. With my bag full of everything I thought I would need, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. There was a credit card for emergencies only, and my passport was in the front pocket of my bag. Well, this was an emergency if there had ever been one. Surely Mom wouldn't mind me buying a plane ticket if it was to save her life, right?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Emery Lynn," Nancy said, leaping to my side. "I'm not going to let you fly to the States by yourself. Your dad would kill me."

"Then come with me," I said. "The more the merrier."

"I'm in!" Alex announced.

"Me too!" Ayla said. "Oh my God, America! I'd better go pack." She frolicked out of the room.

"I never said anyone was going to America!" cried Nancy. "You three are staying here." She said the last word with finality, as if the matter were closed.

I zipped up my bag and turned to glare at her. "There is no way in heaven or hell you are keeping me here," I told her darkly. "You can go and tell Mother, or keep your mouth shut and join us on the plane. But either way, I'm going to America to save my parents."

Nancy stared at me, at the stubborn way my jaw was set, at the ferocity in my eyes. She exhaled and shook her head. "Okay, Emery Steed," she said in exasperation. "You win." I waited for her to turn around and scream for Mother, but instead she just folded her arms and asked, "Did you pack your toothbrush?"

***

There hadn't been time to scream. In fact, there hadn't been time to even think. Keel had simply pulled the trigger and that was it. Thank God he hadn't been intending to kill her. Emma was certain he could have ended her life right then and there. Instead, he had shot her in the left arm.

It hurt, there was no denying that. Sure, there was blood pouring from the hole and seeping through her clothes, but she was alive. And right now, that was all that mattered.

Keel made a satisfied "hmph", blew the smoke off the barrel of the gun, and pocketed it. "Just so you know I mean business, Steed," he said. He dropped Steed's phone on the ground, stomped it to pieces, and up the stairs he went.

"Emma," Steed gasped, scrambling over to her. He yanked off his jacket and wrapped it around the wound. "Are you alright? He has such a good shot, I was so scared he would really kill you, oh, Emma, please tell me you're alright!"

"I'm fine," she said, grinning at his panic.

"No, you're not fine!" he cried. "You just got shot! This is exactly why I didn't want you coming with me. What if he actually killed you?" Suddenly, he kissed her forehead. "Oh, please be alright!"

"John," Emma laughed. "Look at you! I don't think I've ever seen you like this. It's just my arm."

"But it's my favorite of the two," Steed whined.

She smacked him lightly on the head. "Idiot," she grinned. "Come here and kiss your wife."

So he removed his bowler hat from his head, placed it on hers, and kissed her. She wore his bowler hat as a joke, to remind them of the first time he kissed her, and how it had been an accident. Emma had stolen his hat, and was wearing it, taunting him. "Come and get it from me," she had teased.

In the process of getting his hat back, Steed had wound up on top of her. They had found themselves extremely close, their noses nearly touching. It hadn't been intentional, but he had just leaned down a bit farther, and closed the distance between them.

"If this is how you get your hat back," Emma had murmured, "I should steal it more often."

Emma sighed. There were some things you just wished you could experience a thousand times over, every day of your life. Unfortunately, time is never on your side. Especially when you need it most.

"By the way," Steed breathed when they pulled apart, "I think our daughter is coming to rescue us."

***

We gave Mother a box of macaroons, laced with sleeping powder Ayla happened to be carrying around in her pocket, as an apology. He was conked out in ten minutes, allowing the four of us to leave the house without so much as a "Sto-!"

At the airport, Ayla dragged me and Nancy to the ladies' room and opened her bag. "We need disguises," she announced.

"What about Alex?" I asked.

She waved her hand dismissively. "He can take care of himself. Now, for you, Nancy, I have this." She pulled out what looked like a leather cat suit.

Nancy's eyes bulged. "That's Mrs. Peel's! I mean, Emery's mom's!"

"_That's_ my _mom's?_" I cried. "How come I've never seen it before?"

"This was her spare mission outfit," Ayla explained. "I nicked it from your house when Man Lady attacked us."

For a brief moment, it occurred to me that maybe we shouldn't have left Man Lady hanging in the kitchen for Mother to deal with when he woke up, but I dismissed the thought quickly. "You little sneak," I said with a sly grin.

She smiled proudly, tossed my mother's suit at Nancy, and continued rummaging through the bag. "These are mine," she muttered, placing a light dress and low heels on the bathroom counter. Someone flushed a toilet, stepped out, and gave us the queerest of looks. Nancy took the stall the lady had just come out of to change.

"Ah ha," Ayla said victoriously. In her hands, she held a filmy material, and I realized it was a shirt. She placed it on the counter and pulled out a very short skirt.

Wait… if Ayla had the dress and Nancy had the cat suit, then… those things were for me?!

"Oh no," I said, backing away slowly. "No way, Ayla. I haven't shaved my legs since Monday. You are _not_ putting me into something that revealing."

She paused. "What about your armpits? Have you shaved those recently?"

"Yes, it'd be just plain gross if I didn't!" I said.

"Good," she said, and she threw the clothes at me. "I have pantyhose and boots for your legs, so you should be fine. Keep your undershirt on with this, though, unless you want your high beams on."

Nervous, I raised my arm across my chest and prayed my nipples weren't showing. I mean, what else could high beams mean? One of the women in the bathroom was staring at me. I gave her a frightened smile and hurried into the nearest stall.

With the skirt on, I was afraid to bend over. I hadn't packed underwear for the occasion, and the ones I had on happened to have strawberries and shopping bags all over them.

When I came out, the boots and pantyhose were on the counter. I took one look at them and started laughing. Ayla frowned, thinking I was laughing at her dress. "What?"

"It's the boots," I chuckled. "You didn't tell me they were kinky boots!"

"Kinky boots?" she repeated in confusion.

I nodded. "That's what my dad calls all leather boots that got past the knee. Mom has a pair, and whenever she wears them Dad announces it every chance he gets. Like, he'll whisper it to me, holler at her down the hall, anything."

Ayla raised an eyebrow at me, but I totally ignored her.

"He even has a song about it. Cracks me and Mom up every time he sings it." I laughed at the memories, but stopped abruptly. "I never learned all the words," I admitted in a soft voice. "What if he won't be able to teach me?"

She gripped my shoulders. "He _will_ teach you. In fact, he'll teach all of us, cuz this sounds like a song I would like." Ayla thrust the boots and pantyhose into my hands. "Now wear the kinky boots, and make Mr. Steed proud."

I grinned. Dad certainly wouldn't approve of his fourteen-year-old daughter wearing kinky boots, but it would make him laugh for a little while.

I hitched up my skirt and slid into the pantyhose, and the kinky boots over that. Ayla watched me, her face plain. She chewed on her bottom lip, observing me stuffing the boots with paper towels since my feet were too small for them. My phone and iPod went into the boots as well, since I had no pockets. It was either the boots or bra, and I didn't want my boobs lighting up every time my phone rang.

"You're so lucky," she said finally.

I looked up from my stuffing. "How so?"

Nancy was still in the stall, and we could hear her struggling to get dressed in such a small space. "Because," Ayla continued, "your parents love you."

Slowly, I straightened up and met her lonely gaze. "I just thought your parents were dead," I said.

Ayla shrugged. "Well, I don't know what happened to them, really. Dad was part of the Ministry, and one day he took us to work with him, and left us there. I don't think anyone knew we were there until we started stealing food."

"He just left you there?" I gasped.

"Yup. Alex and I were alone for a few days. We had to eat something, got caught, and next thing we know we're standing in front of Father, the head of the Ministry." She snorted. "Imagine, two five-year-olds cowering in front of Father. She couldn't see us, of course, but she and the rest of the Ministry decided that they would take care of us, rotate us around like a foster care system."

Five years old? FIVE? What kind of parent was that!?

"Of course," she continued, "they didn't know what they were getting when they took us in."

"But they kept you all the same," I whispered.

Ayla nodded. "Yeah. They love us, by some miracle of God. Apparently, Dad quit the day he left us, and hadn't given anyone contact information. So our fate was entirely up to the Ministry, and they decided to love us." She pushed her hair behind her ear. "They're crazy, for sure."

I really wanted to hug her, because she looked like she needed one so desperately, but I wasn't sure how she would react to it. So I did the dorky thing and asked permission. "Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?"

In response, Ayla came up and embraced me. "Thanks for listening," she whispered.

Nancy came out of the stall then. "Hey," she called. "I can't zip this thing all the way up. Little help, please?"

Ayla grinned and zipped up the back of the suit. "Comfy?" she asked.

"I feel like Catwoman," Nancy complained. "How your mom wore this every day, I'll never know."

I grinned shyly and shrugged. Ayla just laughed. "Wait till you see Alex's disguise."

***

"Oh God," I said when we came out of the bathroom and saw Alex.

He grinned in a very gentleman-like manner, swung his umbrella, and tipped his black bowler hat. "Ladies," he greeted.

"Those are my dad's!" I cried.

"And you thought we would leave your house empty-handed?" he countered. "I think I look good." Suddenly, he lost the cool aura and became excited. "Check out this wicked umbrella, guys. It's got-," he clicked a button, "a voice recorder," _click_ "a camera," _click _"a pen," _click SHWING! _"and a sword!" He slid the sword back into the umbrella. "Your dad is the coolest guy ever."

"How he got that all past security is a mystery to me," Ayla said. She looked so proud of him, like she wanted to rumple his hair and give him a big hug.

Nancy looked like she was on the verge of tears. "You look like such a gentleman!" she exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you, Alex."

Alex whipped off the bowler hat and tapped the top. It made an unexpected _thunk_ noise. "Steel plated," he stated. "I am so ready."

"New York, here we come," I announced. America was going to need all the luck it could get.

***

Emma was panicking. "Does he know what Emery looks like? What if she dies before she even makes it here? What if he finds out she's coming?"

"If you talk that loud, he certainly will," Steed replied. "Don't worry about her. She has the twins on her side." He placed a soothing arm around her. "Calm down or you'll start bleeding again."

"We've got to get out of here," Emma proclaimed. She pulled herself to her feet using the bars for support. "What can we use?"

Steed leapt up and allowed her to lean on him. "Emma," he said sternly. "There's nothing we can do right now. Please sit back down before you fall."

"I have bobby pins," she said, completely ignoring him. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled one out. "We can pick the lock."

"And then what?" asked her husband. "There's only one exit, and that is up through Keel's house, where he'll undoubtedly see us. Most likely, he'll kill you and spare me, because it will hurt me more." He pulled her close. "I don't want to lose you, Emma. I love you."

Emma stared into his lovely eyes, and recalled the first time she fell into them. "My daughter's safety is more important than my own," she whispered.

"I wish you'd let me teach her fencing," Steed said in an exasperated tone. "Then you wouldn't be so worried right now."

"I wish you didn't have so many enemies," Emma replied. "Then we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Touché," said Steed. He held out his hand. "Give me the bobby pin."

With a victorious smile, Emma placed it in his hand and sunk back down to the ground. Steed stepped over to where the lock was and, muttering something about not being able to stand up against his wife, began to work the pin into lock.

**AN: Steed doesn't actually have a song about kinky boots, although Patrick Macnee and Honor Blackman do. I am referring to that song. Hopefully that makes sense. **


	8. 8 Melody

**8 Melody **

I officially DO NOT like flying. Especially in a skirt that doesn't go halfway down my thighs and a seat next to a really pervy looking guy who kept looking at my boobs. Though I didn't mind the kinky boots. I felt like I was born to wear them, despite the fact that they were stuffed with itchy paper towels. Alex kept giving me this smirk every time he saw me bend down to scratch my leg and then have to readjust everything so I wouldn't be showing off.

I didn't like his smirk either.

Ayla, of course, found this all hysterical and would break out into giggles behind me. Nancy was way up ahead of us, earning strange looks for her leather costume. Especially from the chick sitting a few rows behind her. She kept leaning around the other seats to get a better look at her.

"That girl," Alex whispered as he leaned across the aisle to talk to me. "She keeps looking at Nancy."

"I know," I said. "I think it's the outfit."

"I've seen her somewhere before," Ayla put in.

Suddenly, it was like I had a flashback. I recalled Mom putting pictures in a box, hastily. "Mommy?" I had said, and it felt as if I were very young. "Why are you putting those pictures away?"

She had paused at one of the pictures, of her and a girl with something shiny on her nose. At the time I had thought it was a scratch on the photo, but now that I thought about it, it looked remarkably like a nose piercing. Something this girl had. "No reason, Emery," Mom had replied. "No reason."

"My mom had a picture of her," I said, my eyes glued to the girl. "I haven't seen it in years, but I'm sure she has a picture of her."

Alex tapped my shoulder. "Maybe you should go talk to her. You know, introduce yourself. She could be friendly."

Suddenly, the girl swung her head around. Her liquid brown eyes were strikingly similar to the twins'. We froze, caught in the act of staring at her. She stared right back at us. You could practically see the thought process going through her head. She looked from Nancy to us and back again, putting pieces together, though her conclusion I was uncertain of.

The girl got up, walked down the aisle, and took the empty seat in the row in front of Alex. "Emery?" she asked me, her eyes narrowing.

I blushed at the fact that she knew my name. "No," I said hastily. "You've got the wrong girl. I'm not Emery, I'm… Emily."

Alex and Ayla held their faces in the hands, hopeless. The girl made a yeah-right look. "Are you sure you're not Emery Lynn Steed, daughter of John and Emma Steed, born on December 17 in London, England?"

I quickly checked my pockets for my wallet, wondering if she had stolen it like the twins had, then realized I didn't have any pockets in the ridiculous outfit I was wearing. "Who ever that girl is, I'll bet she doesn't know her stalker is female," I snapped.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" she said.

Angered, I folded my arms and exhaled in a snort. "Why does everyone tell me that? Do my truths sound like lies?"

"Look," the girl said. "You can quit trying to lie because there's no point in lying to me. All I'd like to know is why are _you_ on a plane without your parents and why is that woman up there wearing Emma's leathers?"

I snapped my fingers, triumphant. "See? I told you she was staring at cuz of the outfit!"

Alex whistled. "How much do you know about this family, chick?"

"I asked first," the girl said quickly. "Where's Emma, and why's that girl wearing her clothes?"

"My parents are in New York," I answered with a scowl. "Nancy's wearing Mom's outfit because we were in disguise. Now that we've been recognized, there's no point in wearing these things anymore."

Alex shot Ayla a glare. "Told you we should have brought wigs."

"We don't have any wigs," she snapped, reaching out and smacking her brother on the back of the head. His hat came off and he winced in pain.

The girl stared at them, thoughtful. "What are your names?"

"What's yours?" Ayla countered.

She smiled. "Fair. My name's Mel."

Alex raised his chin. "I'm Rex. This is my sister, Eliza."

The girl Mel shook her head. "To think that the child of John Steed sucks at lying, and her friends aren't any better." She rolled her eyes. "Why are they in New York?"

"That's private," I said firmly. "Done interrogating?"

Mel pursed her lips. "You don't seem to understand that I'm a friend," she said.

I shook my head. "No, I don't usually hang out with girls who have nose studs and don't give a damn about their appearance," I said sarcastically.

"And I usually help out my friends, but if you're going to disrespect me like this, I don't see a point," Mel responded.

"Ooh, a devil with a forked tongue," Ayla said.

We all stared at her. She stared back at us. "What?" she said. "You've never heard that before?"

"I'm not entirely sure you have the wording right," Alex told her. He placed his hat back on his head and opened up one of the brochures in the pocket of the seat in front of him. "Look, they're having a sale on Chia Pets."

"You're such a dunce," Ayla insulted.

"Great company you travel with," Mel complimented.

I stuck my tongue out at her. She just shrugged. "No thanks, I use toilet paper."

When had the world gotten so full of perverse, revolting people? Seriously, everyone needed to get their mind out of the gutter and make clean jokes.

"How much longer in this flying tin can?" Alex wondered. "I want to get out and put all that training to the test!"

"Are Steed and Emma in danger?" Mel asked in a bored voice.

"Mr. Steed is never 'in danger'," Ayla replied, air quotes and everything. "He is the greatest agent the Ministry has ever seen."

Mel made a popping sound. "Uh huh. Sure. Pop quiz, sweetheart. What did that little statement reveal to me?" she tested. When Ayla remained silent, she continued. "It just told me that you know about the Ministry, you're involved with the Ministry, and that you show immense respect for Steed. It also told me that Steed may not be in danger, but Emma definitely is." She leaned back. "Am I right so far?"

"How do you know about my parents?" I asked.

She smiled. "Let's just say that I've helped them out in the past, specifically in the American branches of their work. And in things that involved bending a few rules."

Ayla gaped. "You're a criminal!" she cried in a whisper. "Oh my God, I'm talking to a fugitive."

"Not just any fugitive," Mel continued proudly. "You're talking to THE most sought after fugitive in the world."

It was Alex's turn to be shocked. "Melody Hopkins?" he gasped.

She tipped an invisible hat. "At your service."

*FYI for all who _don't_ know who Melody Hopkins is:

1. Former Olympics gymnastics champion for the U.S.

2. Chart-topping recording artist with the voice of an angel

3. Leader of the most dangerous and powerful gang IN THE WORLD

4. Alive. She_ was_ dead, but that was staged.

5. The most powerful and influential person in the world*

And here she was, talking about her identity with three teenagers, on a crowded plane flying over the Atlantic. Did she have no fear of being discovered?

When I voiced this concern, Melody actually laughed out loud. "Oh no, everyone on this plane was held at gun point when I got on," she explained lightly. "They all believe we have the names and addresses of everyone on this flight, and will hunt them down if they say anything."

"And will you?" Ayla asked.

She shrugged. "Eh, maybe. Not personally, anyways. Much too busy for that."

"Yet you have the time to help out my parents?" I said, completely shocked by this person's logic.

Melody gaped at me as if I had offended her. "Emma and I go way back," she told me. "I would do anything for her, or her family." She touched her knuckles to my face affectionately. "God, you're so cute!"

I looked at Ayla, expecting sympathy, but there was an excited smile spreading on her lips. "I could really learn to like you," she said deviously.

Alex grinned alongside his sister. "I feel this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Great. So now we were involved with an international gangster, drug lord, and fugitive. Who happened to be best friends with my mom. …Actually, this was one thing Mom couldn't punish me for. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

With a smile, I sunk into my seat, listening to the easy conversation flow between the twins and Melody Hopkins. I was doing something right. Mom and Dad would be saved.

And proud. Definitely proud.


	9. 9 I Heart New York

**9 I Heart New York**

About sixteen years ago, Steed had asked Emma to marry him.

At first, Emma didn't know what to say. In fact, she stuttered and stumbled over her words, practically shaking with fright. She hadn't been expecting it. "Steed," she whispered, "I… I don't think I can."

"Well why not?" he responded. "I'm single, you're single, and I'm quite certain I love you." Steed paused. "Unless, of course, you're not sure you feel the same way."

Emma's eyes filled with tears. "But Peter--," she began.

Steed stood from his kneel, placed the ring back in his pocket, and took her trembling hands. "If you still love him," he said quietly, "you shouldn't have led me on like this, Mrs. Peel."

"I didn't lead you on!" she insisted. "I just… need more time."

"With Peter?"

Emma bit her lip and didn't reply. She averted her eyes from his perfect blue ones, terrified. There were so many things to consider when one married! Work, family, and God forbid children. Where would they live? Would they still work at the Ministry? Could they truly remain faithful to each other?

Would Peter be upset, watching her marry another while he waited loyally on the other side? Or had he already taken a partner in death, if one could do such a thing?

When she looked up, Steed was watching her, nodding. "Alright, Mrs. Peel," he told her. "I'll see you the next time we're needed." He let go of her hands, placed his hat on his head, and walked out of her flat, leaving Emma quite alone with the crushing realization of just how much she had hurt him.

Within the hour, Emma was at his door, ringing the buzzer and knocking urgently, practically begging him to answer. He did, finally, and gave her the smile of a gentleman that he could give to any woman. Furious, Emma pushed past him and into the apartment. She wanted to see the special smile he would give her when there was no one else around. The one that said he loved her.

"Good evening, Mrs. Peel," he greeted her.

She gaped. How could he be so nonchalant about it? Surely when someone said they wouldn't marry you, one would be fairly torn up. Emma swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "Good evening, Steed," she said forcefully.

And then she ran forward, jumped up so that her feet were no longer touching the ground, and kissed him so fiercely he actually stumbled backwards. She kissed him long and hard, apologizing for her mistake.

When she pulled away, there was a loving glint in his eyes again. "Didn't take you very long," he remarked.

Emma pretended to think about it. "Hm. You're right. Perhaps I should leave and come back tomorrow."

"This is one decision I won't let you back out on, so take your time," he warned.

She smiled. "I had choices with the other ones?" she asked, astounded.

"But of course!" he exclaimed. "I would never take away your freedoms like that." He grinned. "By the way, was that a yes or a no?"

Emma made a disbelieving sound and bopped him on the head, causing his hat to go down over his eyes. "I don't think my choice has ever been clearer," she alerted him.

"I need a little more clarification, if you please," Steed replied.

"Fine," Emma said, surrendering. "I love you, John Steed."

He smiled. "Wonderful." And kissed her again.

Now, Emma watched her husband pick the lock on the cage and had to smile. He loved her so much, and she loved him too. She wondered how she could have ever doubted it.

Steed fit the pin into the lock with a grunt and tried to turn it. "Damn," he muttered. "I think I jammed it."

"Bravo," she congratulated. "Not only will we not escape, but we'll have to buy Keel a new lock, too."

"He owes you an arm," Steed pointed out. "This makes us even."

Emma grinned, but it faded quickly. "Is Emery really coming to get us?" she asked, hoping against hope that her daughter wasn't.

Steed grimaced. "Yes," he confirmed as he sat down next to her. "Unfortunately, our untamed daughter is coming to spring us free." He caught her eye. "Do you think she can blow up Keel's kitchen while she's at it?"

"Or knock out his power for a week?" Emma suggested. She adjusted herself, tenderly moving her arm. "I haven't a doubt in my mind."

***

New York is the greatest place in the world. Officially. I'm sure I'd love it a lot more if I could actually vacation around in it (look at all the crazy stores!), but my parents needed me.

I guess my expression of shock and wonder betrayed me, because Melody rumpled my hair and promised, "Next time you come, I'll give you the full tour. Madame Tussauds, Statue of Liberty, Empire State, Broadway, you name it. I'll take you there."

Madame Tussauds!? There's one in London, but I've never gone, mostly because it's too expensive and because my mom likes to point out each and every flaw in all the art she sees. And yeah, that means I have no friends to go with.

I was really, really going to like Melody. Even if she was a world class criminal.

"Where do we start?" asked Nancy (we introduced her to Melody, and she wasn't too happy about it. Now she expected Mel to run the whole show while she could kick back and relax. Currently, we were in Central Park).

"With food," Alex replied. He swung the umbrella around. "This thing makes me feel invincible." Alex took a leap with the umbrella thrust out like a sword, his hat nearly falling off. "Behold!" he cried, and many pigeons flew away in fright. "I am John Steed, special agent extraordin-!" His cry was cut short by Ayla yanking the umbrella from his hands.

"Still feel invincible?" she asked smugly. She used the umbrella to point, taunting her brother. "Look, there are hot dogs over there. I've always wanted to eat a New York hot dog!"

"And you won't ever again," Melody muttered. "I'll take you guys somewhere decent. Not hot dogs, please."

"No," I said firmly. "We've got to save my parents before we do _anything._"

Nancy chuckled. "Emery, we're human beings, and as such we must eat. After we've done so, we can go find your parents. And change out of these ridiculous outfits."

"But it could take days to search the city!" Ayla whined.

"Are you backing out on me?" I accused.

She shook her head. "No, but New York's bigger than I imagined."

Melody snorted. "Honey, it's New York," she laughed. "What did you expect, honestly? Boise Idaho?"

"Where's that?" Alex asked. He was eyeing the umbrella in his sister's hand, obviously scheming to get it back.

I interrupted Mel's angry reply. "Okay, let's eat and get going. I would really like to get my parents back," I said, practically yelling.

To my great shock and fury, Mel shrugged. She began walking away, twirling her fingers in her hair, and singing. We stared after her, gaping. She was frickin' ditching us!

"Hey!" I called. "What the hell are you doing?" Some friends my mom had, huh?

Suddenly, someone walking the other way stopped to listen to Melody. He was very, very tall and wore paint splattered pants. Mel turned and looked at him, continuing her song. Then, out of the blue, the man started whistling along with her, the very tune she sang.

"Knew there were some around here," Melody said with a grin. "Got a job for you, brother."

He bowed, low and graceful. "Always a pleasure to serve the beautiful Melody."

My jaw dropped. This guy was a Treble! A real, legit gang member, and Mel was sending him on an errand!

Mel glanced at me. "Do you know who has Emma?" she asked me.

I blinked in confusion and fought to remember for a moment. "Um… someone named Keel. Yeah, Keel, that's right," I said. My eyes wandered to my friends. "It _was_ Keel, right?"

"Keel?" repeated the tall guy. He rubbed his chin artistically, thoughtful. "Is that a man or woman?"

"I don't know!" I cried. "Can you help us or not?"

The man made a disapproving expression, and looked about to tell me off until Melody touched his shoulder. "Her parents are in danger," she told him. "Anyone by the name of Keel that you know?"

He shook his head. "Keel's not too common a name here in America, though. You're sure they're in New York?"

I nodded fervently. "Absolutely."

"Then I'll call up some of the musicians," the guy promised. "We'll begin a search and get back to you. Where can I find you?"

"Trump," Mel answered. "Ask for Melanie Johnson."

He saluted with a smile and walked away, drawing a phone out of his pocket as he went.

As Melody waltzed back into our group, she was met with Nancy's look of utter astonishment. "Trump?" she repeated. "_Trump?_ I can't afford Trump!"

"What's a trump?" Ayla questioned, expertly whipping the umbrella out of Alex's reach the instant he made a grab for it.

"Donald Trump," Mel explained. "Like, _The Apprentice_, business man, etcetera, etcetera."

I snapped my fingers, suddenly realizing who she was talking about. "The guy with the really blond hair that never moves, right?"

"That's the one," Nancy confirmed.

"And don't you worry about affording Donald Trump," Mel stated, patting her on the back. "I'm paying."

***

Keel came down the basement stairs while Emma and Steed were asleep in each others arms. Furious, he shoved the food through the bars of the cage, the water bottles bouncing loudly and waking the happy couple. Within seconds, Keel had his gun aimed at Emma's head, but his eyes were trained on Steed.

"Who called you?" he asked, cocking the gun.

All drowsiness left Steed. His eyes snapped wide open at the sound, all senses on alert. "Called? Called who?"

"You," Keel sputtered. "Who called you?"

"Emery," he said automatically, then cursed himself for letting the information slip.

"And you told her?" he prompted, tightening his grip on the gun. Emma simply stared at him, not scared or frightened in any way. She had absolute confidence in her husband's ability to protect her.

"That we were coming home soon," Steed lied. "And that we were enjoying ourselves immensely."

Keel gazed at him intensely, searching for any sort of lie in Steed's eyes. He could find none, and thus lowered the gun. "I don't know what I'm waiting for," he growled. Suddenly, he whirled around and punched the wall. "Lois should have been back with the little skank hours ago! Where is she?" In an enraged huff, he went back up the stairs.

Steed blinked and decided not to worry about Keel's behavior. Instead, he looked around the basement, once again plotting escape. There was an old desk next to what appeared to be a closet, and canned food stacked along one wall. In the back corner, nearly enshrouded in darkness, was a piano.

A thought occurred to Steed. "Emma, darling," he began, "we were sent here to investigate a gang, correct?"

Emma looked thoughtful. "I believe so," she said.

"Was this gang the Trebles?"

At the mention of this gang, Emma stiffened. "Do you think Melody might have something to do with this?"

"I don't think she has anything to do with Keel, but perhaps with the reason we came here in the first place," he told her. He paused. "…Would she recognize Emery if she saw her?"

Emma pursed her lips. "Where is your brain going, John?"

Steed turned to his wife, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Down the same trail as our daughter's and Melody's, I think."


	10. 10 Fireflies

**10 Fireflies **

All I can say about Donald Trump is that the guy sure knows how to live it up. The room we got (Melody could only afford one, so yes, I slept in the same room as Alex) was so luxurious and sleek that I felt extremely out of place.

Although, when I looked at Melody, lounging on the expensive gray couch in her pajamas, sending a text, I didn't feel nearly as weird. If anyone didn't belong here, it was her, yet she was the only one of us who could afford it.

You should have seen the look on the receptionist's face when we showed up in the lobby. I wish I had a camera to capture his expression and hang it on my wall, in front of my bed, so that when I wake up every morning, my day will start out with a laugh.

"Sorry," Mel apologized to Alex, "but you'll have to share a bathroom with four girls."

"Never mind the bathroom," he said. "Where am I sleeping?"

Despite how spacious the room was, there was only one bed, of course. A sleek gray bed with the blankets pulled so tight you could bounce a coin off them. Mel patted the couch she was lying on. "Dibs," she called, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Ayla went straight to the window, which took up that entire wall and gave us a splendid view of Manhattan. We were up as high as they would allow us, and looking down on the world so far below made me feel terribly dizzy. I went to stand with her anyways, pressing my nose to the glass. "Mom and Dad are down there somewhere," I murmured.

"And soon, we'll get them back," Nancy assured me. She clapped her hands on my shoulders. "Now I'm getting out of this ridiculous outfit. Bathroom's mine!" she claimed, and vanished inside it.

Ayla set the umbrella down for merely an instant to get a better look outside, but it was enough for Alex to seize it back. "YES!" he screamed, jumping up and down in celebration. "I got it!"

"Hey!" Mel snapped. "Quiet, or else they'll throw us out."

Ayla shot him a glare, but her attention was completely devoted to the outside world. "It's so beautiful," she whispered. The sun was setting over the city, and the lights were just coming on like a million tiny fireflies.

_Ack, I shouldn't have said fireflies. Now I've gotten that song stuck in my head! I'll be singing it for an eternity, and everyone will hate me_, I thought, mentally kicking myself. Even as I thought that, however, the first words of the song bubbled to my lips, and I had to sing. In as soft a voice I could muster, I began, "You would not believe your eyes… if ten million fireflies… lit up the world as I fell asleep."

The closest person to me was Ayla, and I'm afraid she heard me singing. "Cuz they fill the open air… and leave teardrops everywhere… you'd think me rude but I would just stand and stare," she sang quietly.

"Who gets the bed?" Alex asked.

"Me," Nancy announced as she exited the bathroom. She now wore Looney Tunes pajamas and fuzzy socks. "Kids, the floor is yours."

I looked around. "This will probably be the only hotel I won't mind sleeping on the floor in," I said. "You can still see the vacuum streaks in the carpet."

"I'll call room service and get us some more pillows," said Melody. She picked up the phone on the table, cracking her knuckles individually while she waited to talk to someone. "I'd like to make myself believe," she sang softly, "that planet earth turns slowly."

Ayla dropped her bag on the floor and began rummaging through it. I sat down next to her, pulled my phone and iPod out of the boots, and yanked the boots off. A flurry of paper towels flew out of them when I did so. "Here are your boots," I told her, placing them in front of her.

"Okay, thanks," she said. "Where's your multi-purpose mystery gadget?"

I hadn't put it in the boots, mostly out of fear that I'd crush the thing. So where had it gone? Shamelessly, I shoved my hand down my shirt and pulled the wonder gizmo out of my bra. "Right here."

Alex's eyes bulged and his cheeks went cherry red. He turned around, clutching his umbrella, and went to staring out the window.

With a shrug, Ayla turned her attention back to me. "Push a button, I wanna see what it does," she commanded.

Delicately, I pressed a tiny button on the side. The thing began a series of beeps, and I panicked. "What'd I do? What'd I do?" I wailed. I looked at the screen. "Heart monitor?"

"It's got a heart monitor?" said Nancy. "That is weird."

Ayla examined the screen and its insistent beeping. "You need to calm down, Emery. See? Your heart's beating too fast." She reached over. "I wonder what this button does," she said.

"Voice controls activated," the gadget said, causing all of us to jump. "Please say a command."

"Hey, my phone does that when I push the wrong button," I stated. "Or sit on it." I held the gadget at eye level. "Play Mozart," I ventured, not expecting it to do anything.

Suddenly, the sound of a piano filled the room. I was so shocked I dropped the thing. "You are confused," the gadget remarked. "I am able to perform any command thanks to the World Wide Web."

Mel was interested. "Can you, like, jump in the air and sprout legs?"

"No," it replied. "To turn off voice commands, simply say so."

"Turn off voice commands," I said, simply because I was so freaked out by the fact that that tiny piece of machinery could TALK and actually REPLY like a human being.

The thing fell silent. I reached down and picked it up. Ayla whistled. "Your dad is _so_ cool!" she said enviously. "No one would ever give something like that to us!"

"Because they all have functioning brains," Nancy spat.

There was a buzzing sound, and Mel leapt off the couch. "That's room service," she said as she raced to answer it.

Nancy sat down on the bed, playing with her hair. "It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep… because everything is never as it seems," she crooned.

The room service guy entered the room, pillows and blankets piled so high in his arms that we couldn't see his face. I hurriedly stuffed the multi-purpose mystery gadget back down my shirt before he could see it.

"Put them there," Mel commanded, pointing.

Gratefully, he dropped all the pillows on the rug, straightened up, and waited expectantly. We ignored him and began arranging the pillows on the floor, singing, "Leave my door open just a crack… cuz I feel like such an insomniac."

Finally, Mel pulled the coolest wallet I'd ever seen from her back pocket and pulled out a ten. "Here," she said, handing it to the guy. "Why do I tire of counting sheep?" she chanted.

The guy smiled and pocketed the money. "Thank you very much, miss," he said smugly. He turned around and left the room, but not before we heard him sing, "If I'm far too tired to fall asleep?"

"My corner!" Ayla called. She had commandeered most of the pillows to create a sort of nest for herself in the corner.

Alex and I exchanged a glance, holding our sorrowful excuse for a bed in our hands. "No way!" I said. "Sharing is caring, Ayla. Don't we get some pillows?"

"And I don't have a blanket!" whined Alex.

Angered, Nancy got up and pulled Ayla by the ear. "That's not nice," she growled. "Nice girls share with those who have less than them. Now, what should you do?"

Ayla had her head turned up so it wouldn't hurt so much. "G-give them some of my pillows and blankets," she stammered.

"Good," Nancy articulated. She released her death grip on Ayla's ear and, whimpering, Ayla allowed us to take some of her cushions.

Alex, now with three pillows and a blanket, shoved all his stuff under the table. "Claimed," he announced.

"Aw," I moaned. "I wanted the table." I looked around and shrugged. "Rug's mine." I folded one of the blankets up underneath me for more cushion and set the two pillows at my head. I liked to sleep with my head at an incline.

"No talking," Nancy said. "I'd like to sleep." She stretched her arm and turned off the lamp, and the room fell into darkness. The only lights were the ones outside and the glow of Melody's phone.

***

Keel was not in a good mood. He fidgeted and squirmed and felt uncomfortable in his own skin. The room seemed too warm. There was nothing worth watching on TV. He was unbearably bored.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door.

A visitor was the last thing Keel wanted, but nonetheless he stopped pacing and went to answer it. "Hello?" he said, greeting the visitor with a don't-bother-me expression.

The man wore paint splattered pants, and he was remarkably tall. "Good evening, Mr. Keel," he hailed, tipping an imaginary hat. "My name is Michael Flatt, from the, uh, LDS Church down the road. Are you a member?"

Keel shook his head. "It's Doctor. And no, and I don't plan to be. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to." He went to shut the door.

The man stuck his foot in the door. "You're not? Whew, that's a relief. I was getting so sick of talking about my Mormon beliefs and whether or not I had enough food stored up for the end times. Would you mind if I came in?"

"Yes, I would-," but Michael Flatt shoved right past Keel with a whistle. "You have a very lovely home, Dr. Keel."

"Because I don't let random strangers inside it," Keel growled. "Please leave."

Michael Flatt looked around. "Is there anyone else in this enormous place? HELLO?" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Keel ran at the man with a look of terror on his face. What if Steed decided to reply? He would be found out for sure! _I must get rid of this man,_ he thought. But he couldn't call the police without them finding the prisoners in his basement.

The gun was still in his pocket. Perhaps he could…

"What's the matter?" asked Michael Flatt with a devious grin. "Got something to hide?"

Keel blanched. "W-well, I-."

Michael Flatt just laughed. "Don't worry. It's New York. Finding someone who doesn't do drugs is about as common as a pink elephant."

Drugs! That was a good cover. Keel sighed in relief. "Good to know you won't rat me out."

The man smiled and nodded as if it was no problem. He continued to survey the room, and his eyes fell on the array of pictures the shelf. Michael Flatt walked over to them, so tall that the photos were at arm level. "Who are these people?" he asked.

"Old friends," Keel said. "Partners in crime, you might say."

Michael Flatt was staring at a picture of Steed intently. "Really," he said. "Who's this?"

Keel decided to be honest. After all, how would this man know who Steed was? "John Steed," he told him. Keel pointed to the picture next to it. "And that's his wife, Emma Peel."

"Huh," said Michael Flatt. His eyes were very focused on her. "She's pretty."

"Indeed," Keel agreed.

"Would you mind if I took a picture of her?" Michael Flatt asked. "It's pretty rare that I see a woman I like to look at. Such a shame she's married."

Keel chuckled. He could actually like this man. "Be my guest, my good man."

Michael Flatt pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. "Aw, crap, I got that Steed person in it too. Oh well. Thanks man."

"Anytime," Keel replied. The clock in the kitchen began to chime. "Ten o'clock," he remarked.

"Shit, really?" questioned Michael Flatt. "I've gotta go. Thanks for chatting with me."

And so, Michael Flatt left Keel's house, with a picture of a woman who looked exactly like the girl he'd seen with Melody. Dr. Keel was the one, he was sure of it.

***

By the time we were all dressed and heading out of the lobby the next morning, the entire hotel was singing "Fireflies." The receptionist was humming it and waved at us as we left. The bellhop had a flashlight and was shining it on the wall, pretending it was a firefly. I was willing to bet that by the end of the day, the whole city would be singing it.

"What about that guy we met yesterday?" Nancy asked Melody as we paraded down the street. "I thought he was going to meet us at the hotel."

"Every Treble has my number," Mel replied, her phone held in front of her face. "He texted me last night and said to meet him in Times Square."

***AN: I do not own "Fireflies", Owl City/Adam Young does. If you don't know the song, it is incredibly catchy and guaranteed to get stuck in your head. I apologize for getting it stuck in all of yours, but it was fun. :P***


	11. 11 Familiar Faces in Unexpected Places

**11 Familiar Faces in Unexpected Places**

If you want to advertise, Times Square is the place to do it. 1.6 million people walk through there every day, and only about 276,000 actually work there, making the rest tourists or people who just want to hang out. The place got its name because it used to be the HQ for the New York Times. It is the most chaotic, mind boggling, and amazing place in the entire world. There are movie posters the size of the buildings they're stuck on. Broadway is mentioned on every billboard. People are sitting in the middle of the road, drawing caricatures and selling toasted almonds and stuff.

There are screens artfully cut for advertising, making the square a walk-in commercial. A man wearing only a pair of underwear and a cowboy hat walks around playing a guitar that blares THE NAKED COWBOY. I saw a car for the Jekyll and Hyde restaurant with zombies sticking out of the windows, and wondered if Melody would take me there someday.

We walked by a man with a box hanging around his neck. "Obama condoms!" he called. "Get your Obama condoms here!" Someone stopped him and handed him a twenty, and the man allowed them to pick six condoms from the box. On one corner, there's the Hershey's store, proclaiming every single sort of chocolate they sell in a crazy array of light-up signs. Across the street from it is the M&M Company, with a giant screen displaying all their wares.

At the head of the square is a building with shining glass windows, and on the side of that building is where the Ball is. 500,000 people gather every New Year's to watch that Ball drop. I wanted to be one of them.

We met up with Tall Guy in front of a place called Bubba Gump Shrimp. A long time ago, I saw the movie Forrest Gump, and was thus able to make the connection between the movie and the restaurant. Alex, Ayla and I were softly singing "Fireflies" when we saw him. "Hey," Melody greeted. "You said in your text that you found them."

"Not exactly," Tall Guy corrected. "I think I found where they are, though." He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. "Are those your parents?"

I stared at the picture on his phone. "Yeah!" I cried. "That's them! Where did you see these?"

Ayla peered over my shoulder. "Those are only pictures of them," she pointed out.

"Dr. Keel said their names were John Steed and Emma Peel," recalled Tall Guy. "He seemed to be hiding something."

"How do you know?" Alex tested.

"I'm a former FBI agent," Tall Guy answered. "Believe me, I can tell." He handed Melody a piece of paper. "Here's the address. Text me if you need anything."

"Thanks," Mel said. "It was just him, right?"

Tall Guy nodded. "He had a gun, though. I could see it in his pocket. Be careful, especially with the kids." He waved. "See ya." As he walked away, we caught a few notes of the Owl City song before he disappeared into the crowd.

"Bye," I said.

Melody unfolded the paper and swore loudly. I expected people to give her disapproving stares, but everyone continued with their day. Guess in New York, what with the Obama condoms and such, no one cares if you cuss. "What's wrong?" Ayla asked.

"Where this guy lives!" Mel hissed angrily. "It's high end New York. The fact that Mike got in there is worth a medal and induction to the hall of fame. Damn."

"Is high end New York hard to get to?" wondered Alex.

"Extremely," Nancy answered for Mel. "My grandmother lives there, and even then it's a pain."

Mel paused. "Your grandmother? Really?" You could see the thoughts connecting behind her doe brown eyes. "This could be good."

"Yay, scheming!" Ayla and Alex cried. "We've got a plan!"

***

Steed examined Emma's bullet wound. "Well, it stopped bleeding," he commented.

"Good," Emma replied. "I was beginning to think I would need that blood."

"Are you certain you feel alright?" he asked.

Emma smiled. "Don't worry, John. I'm fine." She stroked his face. "Has that brilliant mind of yours come up with an escape plan yet?"

"I'm actually considering waiting for Emery to show up," he admitted.

"We can't let her risk her life like that!" cried his wife.

"And we won't. She won't do it alone. Emery isn't stupid," Steed said. "I have complete confidence in her. Although I'm not too keen on missing out on the action." There was a loud crash above their heads. Steed looked up. "It sounds like our friend Keel is on a rampage."

"Your friend," she corrected, "not mine. I never liked him, you know."

"You met the man once!" Steed exclaimed. "You didn't even remember meeting him until now."

Emma shrugged, and winced at the pain in her arm. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

There as another crash, followed by a furious yell. Keel came stampeding down the stairs, waving his gun. He shoved his hand through the bars and grabbed Emma. The barrel of the gun was against her head. "I need to shoot something," he growled.

Steed was on his feet. "There's no need to shoot her," he reasoned. "She's done nothing."

"Are you sure?" Keel asked. His eyes were unfocused and terrifying. "She married you, didn't she? It would give me great pleasure to see your face when I blow her brains all over the floor."

Emma froze and swallowed hard. "So just out of rage you're going to kill a woman? Is that how you function!?" she asked in a panicked voice.

"Do you want her to live, Steed?" Keel spat. "DO YOU!?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Steed. "Please, don't pull the trigger!"

Keel licked his lips like a madman. "Then get on your knees and beg," he hissed, pressing the gun deeper into Emma's skull. "Beg, John Steed!"

Immediately he was on his knees. "Please don't shoot her," he said. His eyes were fearful; there was no way to wit his way out of this situation. "I'm begging you, don't shoot my wife."

Keel licked his lips again. "Do you mean it, Steed?"

"_Yes!_" Steed screamed. "Don't shoot her!"

"Would you give your own life for hers?" Keel demanded.

"Absolutely," Steed replied.

Keel cocked the gun. "Give up your job, your life, and leave your family?"

"Anything," he whispered.

Emma gasped in pain as Keel pushed the gun even harder. "Never see her or Emery again?"

He said, "As long as I knew they were alive."

Keel hesitated, evidently surprised by how far Steed was willing to go for the safety of his family. He yelled in rage, took the gun from Emma's skull, and shot her in the leg instead.

Emma yelped in pain and crumpled to the ground, sliding down the bars. It hurt a thousand times more than the shot in her arm. The bullet was embedded deep in her leg, and her nerves were on fire. Tears of agony welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. She was afraid to move her leg, aware that every motion sent a bolt of pain through her body.

Steed was at her side, ripping open her pant leg and using the fabric to dress the wound. Under his breath, she could hear him muttering curse after curse to Keel, damning him to hell and making a clear point of wanting to be the one to send him there.

"Are you alright, dear?" he asked, but he didn't look in her eyes. He was too focused on stopping the blood. "I would try to get the bullet out, but it went too deep. That damned bastard," he swore.

"I'm fine," Emma gasped. "I'll… I'll live."

Steed looked up and met her tear glazed eyes. "I'm afraid that if this keeps up, you won't live past the end of this week."

Emma forced herself to swallow the second bout of sobs she felt coming, in order to speak in comprehensible words. "Don't ever say that, John," she said fiercely. "We'll make it. Love conquers all."

"If only this were a fairytale," Steed said wistfully. "Then I would be tempted to believe those words."

"What makes you think this isn't one?" she questioned, successfully putting the pain out of her mind.

"If this were a fairytale, you would be the princess of some country with an unpronounceable name, Keel would be an evil sorcerer, and I would be on the outside, a prince, riding on a white stallion to save you. Possibly slaying a dragon on the way in." Steed grinned. "Instead, we, the king and queen, are held captive by a former knight, and our princess has teamed up with the court jesters and dragon in order to find us in the concrete jungle. Not what I would call a fairytale."

Emma looked thoughtful. "I agree. And Melody would love the comparison to a dragon."

"Exactly why I picked it," he said, his eyes sparkling. "And because dragons are soothed by music."

She punched him, weak and playful. "They are not, and music would only excite Mel. I'm certain that if she had music playing while she fought, she'd never lose."

He nodded knowingly. "Like me, right?"

Emma pulled him close and kissed him deeply. "Yes," she breathed in his ear. "Like you."

***

Melody whistled. "Damn, girl!" she cried. "Who the hell _is_ your grandma?"

We were standing at the spindly gates of a house perched on a hill, the driveway winding from our feet and up to what was probably a million garages. The house, from where I was standing, looked to have about three stories, lots of rooms, and possibly an indoor pool.

"My grandmother was a Broadway star," Nancy said tersely, indicating that it wasn't something she was proud of. She pressed the buzzer, the dread clear on her face. "Grandma?" she said into the speaker. "It's Nancy."

There was a crackle. "Nancy? Oh, darling, darling, come in, come in! Here, here, I'll open the gates."

As the gates opened, Nancy turned to us, her gaze intense. "Whatever you guys do," she warned, "do _not_ sing anything from _Chicago_, _Rent_, _The Lion King_, or any other Broadway musical you happen to know. Please? It's for the sake of our sanity."

***

Nancy's grandma's house was absolutely stunning. It had a Beverly Hills quality expected of movie stars, but much more cheery. The floor had an echo, but an incredibly welcoming one. The walls were covered with pictures and such.

The woman of the house herself was draped in a dress that resembled a window curtain, with feathery boas embracing her frail figure. She danced down the steps, beaming, and pulled Nancy into a well-rehearsed hug. "Nancy, Nancy, darling!" she cried. "Oh, I'm so very, very glad to see you! Who are your friends?" she asked, peering around her granddaughter.

Nancy looked awfully uncomfortable. "This is Melody," she introduced with her eyes on the ground, "Alex, Ayla, and Emery."

Alex, still acting the gentleman, stepped forward with his hand extended. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs.…?"

"Call me Grandma, deary," she fluffed. "All of you. I've always wanted a lot of grandchildren!" Grandma whipped her boa around her neck, and I wondered if the feathers tickled her nose. "Come, come, let's go to the dining hall. We simply must eat something delectable. There is cause for celebration!" She spun around and whisked us through an enormous door and into the dining hall.

The dining hall was huge, with a table meant for fifty in the center. Chairs were lined up at the sides, as if they were expecting a banquet. A giant chandelier hung from the ceiling, weighed down with so many glimmering diamonds that I was afraid to sit directly beneath it.

"Lisa!" called Grandma. "Lisa, darling, we have guests!"

Out of a door on the side of the hall, a head poked out. "Guests?" the head repeated in an accented voice. "There is need for me to cook?"

"Yes, yes, sweetheart!" Grandma told her. "Bring us those cookies until the actual meal is ready."

Lisa came bustling out of the kitchen, and from her face I could see that she was Asian. "I make good cookies," she informed us with a smile as she set an enormous tray on the table. "You like, I promise." Lisa winked and hurried back into the kitchen.

The instant the plate was set on the table, Mel's hand shot out like an arrow and captured a handful of cookies. She ate one and, making sure Grandma wasn't watching, shoved the others in her pockets and down her shirt. Alex and I stared at her, but all she did was grab another and eat it.

Nancy began chatting politely with Grandma, while Ayla stuffed a particularly big one into her mouth. "Fery goof," she said in a muffled voice.

Alex shook his head. "In no way am I eating anything you say is good," he said firmly. "You could be pulling a prank."

With a roll of my eyes, I reached out, took a cookie, and nibbled it. It was the greatest cookie I'd ever eaten, still warm from the oven, with creamy milk chocolate chips and sweet dough melting in my mouth. "Oh, Alex," I said heavenly, "you don't want these. These are so horrible. Better let me eat all of them." I made a grab for another.

Alex lashed out and snatched the one I was aiming for, and, like his sister, managed to shove the entire cookie in his mouth. "Liar," he managed, bits of food flying out his mouth.

"So, darling, darling," Grandma said to Nancy. She now had a glass of champagne or something else specifically age twenty-one and up in her hand and was sipping it gingerly. "You didn't come all the way here just to pay a social visit, did you?"

Nancy hesitated, and took the opportunity to eat a cookie or two. "Well," she swallowed, "I'm here because of her." She pointed at me.

I jumped at being addressed, and suddenly became aware of how much of a slob I looked with cookie all over my face. Paranoid, I wiped it off my face with the back of my hand, straightened my posture, and looked Grandma in the eyes.

Grandma arched an eyebrow. "Emily? She dragged you here?"

"Emery," I corrected. "And I didn't _drag _Nancy here. She insisted on coming."

"For what?" Grandma quizzed, sipping that drink in such a dignified fashion that I was going to go crazy.

I shifted my weight uncomfortably. "Personal reasons," I said simply, aware of my face going red with the white lie. Dammit! Why was it so hard to lie!? Even little not-the-whole-truth lies. I simply couldn't do it!

Grandma eyed me skeptically over her glass, her white blonde hair reminding me of one of the pictures Dad had on the mantle.

"L-look," I stuttered, "we need to get to this one house in this neighborhood. Can you help us?"

She pursed her lips, her cloudy blue eyes evaluating every aspect of my being. Finally, she said, to Nancy, "How about Cathy?"

Nancy groaned. "No! Not Cathy!"

"Who's Cathy?" I inquired.

"My sister," Nancy answered. "The wonderful Cathy Gale."

Ayla, Alex, and Mel gasped in unison. "_The_ Cathy Gale?" Ayla asked, awestruck.

"The one and only."

We spun around. Leaning against the frame of the enormous doors was a very beautiful woman, with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She wore a leather suit similar to the one my mom had that Nancy had worn, along with (woe and behold) kinky boots. She smiled mischievously.

"Hi Cathy," Nancy mumbled, not looking at her sister.

Cathy ignored her anyways; she had eyes only for me. "Would you look at that?" she said rhetorically. "Never thought Steed would settle down, but the proof's right in front of me."

Nervously, I brushed my hair behind my ear, a habit I'd learned from Mom. "People say I look nothing like my dad," I told her.

Cathy snorted. "I'd recognize Steed anywhere," she laughed. "And he's in your eyes."

I was about to point out that I had my mother's eyes, but then I realized that wasn't what she meant at all. Personality. She could see his mind and mannerisms in me. I gaped, unsure of what to say. "Thanks?" I said finally.

Then it hit me. Cathy Gale was the girl from the photo! That's why Grandma looked familiar; they were related! I felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

Confidently, Cathy slouched off her post at the door and came to stand beside her sister. Now that they were next to each other, I could see slight similarities; the shape of their noses, the curve of their eyes, small things like that. "So who are the other munchkins?"

"Alex and Ayla," the twins said proudly.

I swear, for the briefest instant, Cathy blanched, but then she was normal so quickly I wasn't sure if I had really seen anything. However, I caught Melody's eye, and she had seen something, too.

"And I'm Mel," Melody introduced. "I know you, you don't know me, we'll get along fine."

Cathy met Mel's brown eyes with a glare, but she changed expressions so fast that I couldn't really remember if these sightings were real or not. "So, what do you need me for?" Cathy asked nonchalantly.

"My parents," I said automatically, earning a scowl from Nancy. "They're being held captive somewhere around here." I met her eyes fiercely. "You worked with Dad for a long time. You _must_ help."

Delicately, she picked a cookie from the plate and took a small, ladylike bite. "For one," she began after she had swallowed, "it was a _very_ long time ago that I worked with him, and I've been out of the act for a while. Besides, seeing Steed again would be… awkward."

Melody snorted. We all turned to look at her, but her eyes were glued to her phone. "Awkward," she chuckled. "That's hilarious."

"I don't see anything funny about it," Cathy said sharply.

She put her phone away, laughing lightly. "Why don't you admit it?" Mel said. "I mean, no point in keeping secrets." Shaking her head, she placed her hands on the twins' shoulders and pointed at Cathy. "I've figured it all out, kids. Mrs. Gale here is your mother."

Uh oh. If there was ever a bad time for the truth, it was then. The twins collapsed to the floor, gaping, and Cathy started yelling at Melody. Nancy just about had a heart attack, while Grandma looked absolutely appalled.

Mel paid no attention to Cathy's screams. Instead, she began pacing. "And," she continued, "while we're at it, why don't you admit why it'd be awkward to see Steed?"

We all looked at Cathy expectantly. She was using the table for support, and looked on the verge of tears. "I, um, had… romantic interest in him for a while."

"And you made the mistake of letting him know," Mel finished for her, pausing in her walk.

Cathy nodded, biting her lip.

Mel resumed her pacing. "And, if I'm not mistaken, you never got over these affections for him, right?"

She sunk into a chair, nodding.

"Where do we come in?" Ayla asked. Desperation was shining in her eyes. She was so close to knowing the truth about her parents, and I couldn't blame her for being hopeful.

Although, if this was going where I thought it was going, I had two half-siblings and one very angry mom. Panicking, I spoke up. "So, um, did she, uh… _seduce_ my dad?" I questioned Mel.

Everyone sat bolt upright as I said this. If that was what happened, it would tear my family apart.

To my immense relief, both Mel and Cathy shook their heads. I could breathe again. "No," Mel said certainly. "The twins are the same age as you, right? And if I know Steed, he would be a very faithful lover." She gazed at the twins. "Besides, look at their eyes. If they were Steed's, I'm pretty sure they'd have blue eyes."

"So who's the father?" Cathy spat. She was on her feet, right in Mel's face. "C'mon, Sherlock, who fathered the kids?"

"Someone in the Ministry," Mel answered. She ran a thoughtful finger across her mouth. "Let me think; you were upset about Steed, took some guy into the janitor's closet and boom! Your Eggo is Prego." Smirking, she placed her hands on Cathy's shoulders. "You didn't even know he'd married," she whispered. "Loved him for years after you lost contact, didn't cha? Seeing Emery here just about gave you a heart attack." Mel gazed into her swimming blue eyes. "Still love him," she stated.

Cathy sank into the nearest chair, her shoulders shaking with sobs, but none of us dared comfort her. Here in front of me was a woman who was still in love with my father, crying because of him, and what was I supposed to do about it? Sure, I felt bad for the girl, but… Dad loved Mom so much. I didn't want to see them any other way.

***AN: Yes, a sobbing lovesick Cathy. She's not the strong character she used to be, not here.***


	12. 12 I Learned That as a Kid

**12 I Learned That as a Kid**

Keel, finally thinking straight after firing his gun off a few more times, began to wonder what LDS Church Michael Flatt had come from. He walked up and down his street, past ornate houses guarded by wrought iron gates and decorative paths up to lush green hills, in search of such a place.

He didn't find it, and Keel became very confused. Michael Flatt really hadn't been from a church. Had he been a thief? Carefully, Keel went over his encounter with the man.

Michael Flatt had claimed to be a church member, assumed Keel had drugs, and shrugged it off. He'd wandered about the house, and taken particular interest in the photos on the mantle. At the time, Keel had assumed he'd wanted a pretty girl to masturbate to, but…

Keel took off in full sprint. Someone knew about Steed and Emma in his basement, and they'd sent Michael Flatt to confirm. All he'd needed to see was their pictures; it was enough evidence for the police to come and take away everything he'd worked so hard to achieve.

Something clicked in his brain. Of course! Why else would Lois not come back? She'd turned on him, given everything away. He cursed her silently, and vowed that after Steed and Emma were dead, he would go for her next.

He had to get home. If he was going to be found, he was going to finish the job first.

***

The cookies were gone. I stared at the empty plate sadly, wishing there had been more. Cathy's sniffling was the only sound in the room. The twins were watching their mother with unreadable expressions, while Grandma had disappeared into the kitchen for more of the alcoholic drink she was sipping so lightly. I had a feeling she was chugging the bottle now that we couldn't see her.

Mel and I, in fact, were the only ones _not_ staring at Cathy. Nancy was eyeing her sister with a look somewhere between disgusted and pitiful. Mel, however, was texting. "Emery," she said, and it seemed all too loud for her to be talking, "Keel is two houses down."

I blinked. I'd almost forgotten about my parents, trapped in someone's house. "Okay," I said numbly. "Let's go."

"Is there a back way out of here?" Mel asked Cathy as we headed for the door.

After a pause, Cathy nodded. "I'll show you."

She slowly got up from her chair and wandered out the door. All of us followed her, including Nancy and the twins. The house had lost its cheerfulness, the echoes of our footsteps foreboding and sinister.

Cathy led us to the back of the house (which was a _very_ long walk) and opened a rather bland and unimpressive door. Outside there was, as I'd guessed, a pool with a giant diving board and a gazebo, with giant willow trees strategically placed across the yard.

"Thanks," Mel said, and tried to step outside.

Cathy's hand shot out, stopping her. "What, you think it's just going to be you two?" she asked with a glare at me. I shuffled backwards, frightened. "I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it," Nancy stated. "Stay here like a good girl."

"You can't boss me around," snapped Cathy. "I'm older."

Nancy folded her arms. "Yeah, and I've been taking care of your kids for the past ten years because you weren't grown up enough to face your problems."

Cathy looked as if her sister had slapped her. Her eyes welled again, and she looked away. "Okay," she choked. "Thank you for taking care of my children, for being the greatest little sister a girl could get, and for letting me come with you now to save the man I love."

My jaw dropped, as did Nancy's. "You are _not_ coming with us!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Just you try and stop me," was Cathy's reply.

"Time's a-wastin'," Melody alerted us unhelpfully.

Alex nudged Ayla. "Our lives have become a soap opera," he muttered.

Ayla shook her head. "Not really. If Mr. Steed was our father, _then_ it'd be a soap opera. We could replace _Desperate Housewives._"

"Fine!" Nancy barked. "Come with us, whatever, I don't care!"

Cathy looked smug. "Thanks, Nance," she said with a smirk.

Nancy sneered and pushed her way out of the house, not looking back to see if we followed.

***

The most wonderful things about backyards is that that's where they put everything people _don't_ want to see, like control boxes and important wires and plumbing things. When I was little, I had been playing in the backyard, digging a hole, and had come across these white pipes. What I thought was, "Dinosaur bones! I found a fossil!" because I was going through that obsession every kid has with dinosaurs.

So I tried to dig it out, and came across a valve. Being a little kid, I thought the red valve looked like a flower, and I tried to pick it. After all, a flower stuck to a dinosaur bone must be something no one else had at school. I twisted the valve, and because it's me, the pipe exploded.

Mom, of course, came running, and I was crying because I was being sprayed with water and my dinosaur bone was in bits and pieces. Our showers and sinks didn't work for days, until we finally called the plumber. I got a lecture on how dinosaur bones weren't in our backyard, and that I shouldn't dig for them again.

Then, a week later, I discovered that forks could do amazing things. Like if you put on in the microwave, lightning would strike it. Or if you stabbed one in an outlet, it turned off all the lights. Much more efficient than getting up and going all the way to the light switch, and it turned everything off at once! That was when I knocked out the power for the whole block. For the next two years, we had only plastic silverware.

I found the control box on the day my parents left me at my grandma's house. By the time they found me, I had rewired all her circuits and even cut a few wires. I didn't see Grandma for a long time after that, probably because my tampering caused a short circuit that electrocuted her when she plugged the blender in.

Now, I was crouched in Keel's backyard, flicking switches in the control box on the side of his house. I pulled off the panel to reveal the wires behind, picked a color, and yanked out a handful.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Nancy asked me.

I shrugged. "I know red is positive and black is negative, but these other colors are a mystery to me." I turned and smiled. "At least I know I won't get shocked."

Mel grinned. "I like this one. Emma did a good job."

I looked at the panel and traced the wires from the switch to their sources. _Generator?_ I thought. Oh ho, this could be promising!

Biting my lip in excitement, I ripped out the yellow wire. The air conditioning unit a few feet from us fell silent. All the windows that were glowing yellow were suddenly dark. Which also meant that any burglar alarms Keel might have had been disabled.

Alex stepped up to the back door and pulled it open. "Ladies first," he said with a bow.

***

"John?" Emma whispered. "I can't see anything. Where are you?"

"Here," came Steed's voice from somewhere to her left. "Fiddling with the lock again." She heard a clunk. "A fine time for the power to go out, mind you."

Emma smiled. "Maybe it's Emery."

There was a bang upstairs, like a door being thrown open. The same sound again, but much closer. Angry and speedy stomps coming down the stairs alerted Steed and Emma that Keel was on another rampage. Emma scrambled to the other side of the cell, panicking.

"Dammit!" Keel screamed, and it sounded as if he kicked his wall of cans. "Where did the power go?"

Emma realized something then, something fantastic. If the power was out, then there was no way Keel could shoot her, as long as she remained silent. She thanked God for His superb timing to knock out the electricity, and took it as a sign that she wasn't going to die here.

In his fury, Keel fired a few rounds into the ceiling, bright and sudden flashes in the darkness. But Emma and Steed said nothing, because they knew very well that those bullets were meant for them.

***

The bullets flew out of the ground, invisible in the dark. We jumped and screamed and danced, unsure where they would strike next and unable to see anyways. Suddenly, the world fell quiet. None of us moved, terrified that if we stepped wrong another would fly out of the floor.

"The place is frickin' booby trapped!" Ayla hissed.

"No," Mel whispered. "Someone is firing a gun up."

Nancy sounded panicked. "So he knows we're here?"

"Seems like it," she replied casually.

"How can you be so indifferent about all this?" Cathy cried. She broke off with a squeak, afraid that if she were too loud more shots would come.

Mel sighed. "Because," she explained, "I'm a bad guy. I expect to die every time I'm out in public. Being the most sought after fugitive in the world does that to you."

"Okay!" I exclaimed, my hands up in case I had to jump again. "Let's all just be quiet and take it really slow." I enunciated the last two words to get my point across. "Ready? Everyone… step."

We all took a step forward and awaited the reverse bombardment of bullets. Nothing happened, so we moved again. Nothing. I exhaled with relief. For the moment, we were safe. I placed my foot down confidently, jumping when the floor creaked. "Careful," I warned them all.

***

Steed could hear Keel huffing with rage, and wondered how much time he and Emma had before Keel started firing in their direction. He recalled how the room was set up, mentally picturing where Keel was. If only the lock weren't jammed! It would be the perfect moment to make an escape.

Something creaked above them, followed by a… a _voice?_ There were others in the house, Steed was sure of it. Did Keel know that? Whose side were these people on? Panic rose in his chest as one terrible possibility came to his mind.

What if it was Emery?

He heard a click, and knew the gun was being cocked. "There's someone up there," Keel muttered. Steed imagined him sweaty faced and staring at the ceiling, his gun shaking in his hand. "I can hear them."

There was another creak, and suddenly the gun went off, firing round after round in the direction it had come from. A small thump sounded, alerting them that the target had been hit.

***

"Goddamn bastard!" Ayla hissed. My eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness, and I could see her curled on the floor. "He fucking shot me."

Nancy was by her side in a heartbeat. "Watch your mouth," she chastised. "Where were you hit?"

"My foot and my side," she said through gritted teeth. Clearly she was trying not to cry. "Ow."

For some reason, I expected Cathy to get down beside her and coo about her daughter's wounds, but it obviously wasn't going to happen. She remained where she was, trying not to look at the outline of Ayla on the floor.

Nancy turned to me. "Go," she commanded. "Ayla doesn't need you; your parents do. Go!" she cried when I didn't move.

Blindly, I ran. Alex, Mel, and Cathy raced after me. I didn't stop until something got in my way, and I assumed that whatever it was was expensive, because it broke with an almighty crash. Of course, it scared the heck out of me and set off another flurry of bullets, which would have hit me if Alex hadn't run into me and sent the two of us flying.

"C'mon," he said in my ear, and he pulled me to my feet. I coughed in the dust of whatever broke. Alex yanked me forward, after Mel and Cathy, who were gesturing for us to get a move on.

"The shots are coming from downstairs," Melody said quietly, "which means that whoever is shooting us is down there, and most likely your parents are too." She swallowed, but it was too late. I'd already seen the suspicion in her eyes. If there was a guy as trigger happy as this one was in the same room as my parents, chances were that my parents had already kicked the bucket.

"They're not dead," I hissed defiantly. "Not. Dead."

***

"There's more than one," Keel growled. Steed could barely see him now, with his eyes adjusting. "I can hear them."

Emma was breathing heavily from the ground, trying to keep her panic in check. Steed sincerely hoped Keel ran out of bullets soon.

***

We stumbled around as quietly as we could, searching for the stairs. "The stairs in Grandma's house are behind a door," Cathy told us. "This house seems to have the same design."

There was a door to my right. Cautiously, I placed my hand on the knob, mentally preparing for the onslaught of bullets, and yanked open the door, jumping with it to avoid any shots.

But there were none. Nervously, I peered around the door. It was just a coat closet.

***

Like an anxious cat, Keel paced back and forth in front of the stairs, reminding Steed of the tiger he'd taken Emery to see at the zoo when she was young. The great cat had rushed from one said of the enclosure to the other, as if it were contemplating how to get through the glass. Keel, however, was waiting for what could either be his prey or his predator to burst through the door.

Either way, as soon as the door opened, he was going to shoot like mad.


	13. 13 Theories Have Never Been So Right

**13 Theories Have Never Been So Right**

Cathy had her hand on a doorknob. "I'm pretty sure this is it," she informed us. "Grandma's is here, too."

We all scrambled to the sides of the door, and when we gave her a nod, Cathy flung it open.

She was right. This was the door, because so many bullets whizzed by us it felt like a Western shootout. We stuck to the walls as if we were trying to become part of the drywall. Suddenly, the bullets stopped.

Beyond cautious, the four of us chanced a glance down the stairs. It was pitch black, and the only sound we heard over our panting was a clicking sound.

"He's reloading the gun!" Mel screamed, and she yanked Cathy out of harm's way. Alex and I pulled back the instant the firing started again.

***

"That was Mel," Emma gasped. "John, John, it's them. It's Mel and Emery."

Steed scanned for anything within reach that he could possibly use to distract Keel. There were water bottles on the floor, half empty. He bent down and grabbed them. His aim wouldn't be very good in the dark and between two bars, but he had to try. "Lie down," he told his wife. "If he shoots us, I don't want you hurt.

He took careful aim at Keel's silhouette and the flashes of the gun, the water sloshing about in the bottle. _One,_ he thought. _Two… THREE!_

And Steed hurled the bottle at Keel's head.

***

Abruptly, the shots stopped. I stared at the open door, confused. He couldn't have run out of rounds already! Risking my right hand, I thrust my arm out, testing the shooter. Nothing happened.

I was about to say something when a voice called from the basement. "Emery?"

"Dad?" I called back. Before I knew it I was tearing down the stairs, into deeper darkness. "Dad! I'm right here!" Suddenly, I tripped, soaring through the air and landing on my face. "Ow," I said.

"Careful!" Dad said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Where's Mom?"

"Right here, sweetheart," came Mom's voice, although it sounded weak.

The other three were in the basement with us, fumbling about in the dark. "Are you tied up?" I asked.

"We're in a cage," Dad admitted. "And I'm afraid I jammed the lock."

"You owe me new hair pins," Mom reminded him.

I walked towards their voices with my hand out. My extended fingers touched metal, and wrapped around the bars. Now I just needed to find the lock…

"Look out!" Melody screamed. Shots went off, cutting through the hopeful air. Someone bowled into me, knocking me to the ground and remaining on top of me.

I blinked at the person, unsure of whom it was. The gun stopped firing, and I heard two people groan and metal skitter across the floor. "Are you okay?" I asked the person on top of me.

"No," grunted Mel. She rolled off of me, clutching her stomach. "But don't worry about it." She started coughing.

Alex's voice rang clear through the room. "That's for my sister, you son of a bitch." His foot made contact with the shooter, making him groan again. "Cathy- I mean, Mom, are you okay?"

"Fine," gasped Cathy. "He kicks like a horse, that one."

I had to help them all, but I could do more with my parents free. I scrambled to my feet, found the gun on the floor, and shot at the lock. I missed.

Suddenly, the gun was wrenched from my hands and shoved against my skull. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" growled the unfamiliar voice.

"Keel," Dad said carefully, "let her go."

To my utter surprise, he did. "You're right," he said to Dad. "It's not very gentleman-like to shoot a woman like that. Much more appropriate to shoot from afar."

"Thanks for being so courteous," I spat, shaking with fear. Alex caught my eye, and he was waving the umbrella. There was no way I could catch it from this distance. _Stall, Emery,_ I thought. _Stall._ "It's really a pity _she_ didn't get the same kindness," I lied.

Keel stiffened. "Who?" he asked.

"Oh, you know _exactly_ who," I continued, and I started to pace around the room, circling. "Although I guess there's no law against murdering a heart." I paused. "No, _three_ hearts, if I'm not mistaken." God, that sounded cheesy.

"What do you mean?" he said in a strangled voice.

Hell, _I _didn't know what I meant. But now that I was talking, a theory was forming in my head. "Tell me," I continued, "what color are your eyes?"

Melody chuckled slightly, but everyone else was confused. "I don't see how this is relevant," Keel replied.

"Me neither," Dad called cheerfully.

"They're brown, right?" I questioned. "Am I right, Dr. Keel?"

Keel kept the gun trained on me. "Yes."

I was getting close to Alex now. Just a few more feet and I could get the umbrella. "And, if I'm not mistaken, you worked in the Ministry for a number of years, even after my dad was no longer your partner."

"Common knowledge," Keel replied, dismissing my words.

"Ah," I said, "but what you did in those years isn't." I was close enough to Alex that I could reach out and wrap my arm around his shoulder. But I wasn't finished tormenting Keel. Not yet. "Are you aware of who we left on the upper floor?"

"Are you getting somewhere?" Keel spat impatiently.

I slunk around Alex, teasing the umbrella from his grip and taking his hat. "See this boy right here?" I questioned, draping my arms over his shoulders. "He's your son."

The instant the words left my mouth, Keel pulled the trigger. Alex ducked, and I whipped the hat from my head to cover my heart. The bullet ricocheted off of the steel plate inside and hit the piano in the corner, causing the room to ring with a chord of notes.

"Ha!" Mom cheered. "That's my girl!"

Hurriedly, I placed the hat back on my head and pressed the button on the umbrella. It fanned open; not what I was hoping for. Where was the sword!?

Cathy groaned. "Amateur!"

I looked around wildly for something to do, an escape route. There was nothing to stop Keel from shooting at me, and I could hear him reloading. My hands were getting clumsy with panic.

I couldn't figure out how to release the sword, but… the umbrella could slide up and down. Instinctively and with a mighty yell, I raced forward, opening and closing the umbrella to confuse Keel.

The tip of the umbrella made contact with something squishy. Suddenly, the umbrella fell apart, leaving me with the whangee handle and…

_The sword!_

Keel's raging eyes stared at me from where he was backed up against the bars of the cage, the umbrella bloody in front of him. With a sickening feeling, I realized that the squishy thing had been Keel's stomach. He was gasping for air, but still determined. With a shuddering breath, he raised the gun.

I screamed and slashed the sword through the air, my hair flying into my face and blocking my vision as I did so. Keel had moved, and the sword made contact with metal. It sent a ringing up my arm, and left me shaking.

Gunshot, so close to my head that it left my ears ringing. I blinked and brushed my hair out of my face. Keel could have hit me then. I sunk to my knees. Why had he missed?

Gently, someone took the sword from my grasp. "You've done splendid," Mom whispered. "Let Dad take over."

Still trembling, I nodded. Mom was holding me, staring up at Dad, who now had his sword. Some part of my brain wondered how they'd gotten out of the cage, until I saw the lock on the floor. It looked as if someone had chopped the thing in half.

Keel hadn't been aiming at me with that last shot. He'd been aiming for Dad.

"Well," Dad said conversationally, "it seems we've both managed to lie our way through the years, doesn't it, Keel? Both hiding a family. At least I didn't abandon mine."

"I did no such thing!" Keel spat. "Their mother _left_ them with me, and I never saw the bitch again!"

"If you turn around, you'll find that you're quite mistaken," he continued.

Confused, Keel spun around to see Cathy kneeling by Alex, who hadn't gotten up from the ground for fear of being shot. He gazed at her, his expression baffled. "What?" he said finally.

"She's the girl you met all those years ago," Mel croaked from the ground. "Fifteen years, right? The one you seduced for some fun that night, remember?"

Keel suddenly had the gun on Cathy. "You're the one who dumped me with the meddlesome brats!" he exclaimed.

"Don't turn your gun on her," Dad said in a dangerous voice. I looked up at him, terrified to hear him talk like this. "She's the mother of your children."

"And she was too scared to take on the responsibility of it!" Keel snapped. "She means nothing to me!"

I blinked, and suddenly Dad had his sword at Keel's throat. "I'll do it," he murmured. "I swear I will."

Everyone was moving far too fast for my panicked brain to understand. All I know is that a second later, the sword had flown through the air and clattered to the ground, by the piano. Keel's gun was at Dad's forehead. "So will I," Keel hissed.

Dad twisted around, and suddenly _he_ was the one with the gun. "Perhaps you've grown rusty, my friend," he remarked.

Keel chuckled. "You would kill me, but not with a gun, Steed," he chortled.

"I'm not picky at the moment," Dad replied. "You've threatened everything I know and love, and right now, I don't care how you die."

"I've made you that angry?" Keel asked. "Fantastic."

"You're tormenting me because of a lost love," said Dad. "And yet, here is your son and his mother, cowering before you. Isn't it ironic?"

"They mean nothing to me," he spat.

"Alex," Dad said, but he didn't look at him, "would it upset you if I killed your father in front of you?"

Alex sat up and shook his head. "He shot my sister. Kill him."

"Mrs. Gale?" he continued. "Would you mind?"

Cathy just about melted when he said her name. "No," she whispered, her eyes shining. "Go ahead."

I gaped at Dad, with his gun pointed at a man I absolutely hated and wanted dead, and I did not want him to pull the trigger. I looked to Mom, expecting her to say something, but she remained silent. Her eyes glowed with deep hatred, and I noticed the bullet wounds on her leg and arm.

But seeing Dad like that, with the desire to kill so obvious in his eyes, scared me beyond reason. I didn't want to witness him pulling that trigger, ending a man's life, and not regret it. Because I knew he wouldn't regret it.

I was about to break free of Mom's arms, run forward and scream for Dad not to do it, but I was too late. He stared at Keel intently, eyes narrowing, and then he fired the gun.

The shot erupted like a firecracker, like a canon, like the time I had climbed a tree and the branch had broken with a deafening snap. I hadn't been scared, though, because Dad caught me, as I knew he would. Dad always caught me. The flash that emitted from the gun nearly blinded me, and I felt like the world had slowed down to a crawl. I saw the bullet leave the barrel, whistle through the air, and embed itself into Keel's chest.

Keel fell backwards, his eyes completely lifeless, and his body bouncing slightly when it hit the ground. My heart stopped. The gun was smoking, and Dad let it fall to the ground with distaste. He said something, but I didn't hear it. Mom helped me to my feet, too weak to carry me, and like that, we left Keel's house.

It had gone too fast for me. Weren't we supposed to take it slow? Pay our respects to the dead? But we didn't. It seemed like everyone was in a hurry to get out, before the police came. I was petrified, scared to go anywhere near my father, or Cathy or Alex, because they had given him the OK to kill Keel. I clung to Mom like a leech, and prayed that I was dreaming.

Have your parents ever murdered someone in front of you? It's the scariest thing in the world, because you see a side of them you were sure didn't exist. It never even crosses your mind that they were capable of doing such a thing. Watching someone die is bad enough… but when it's done by the hands of your father, it's a whole new level of agony. The world suddenly doesn't feel real anymore. Everything seems like a dream.


	14. 14 Forgive, But Don't Forget the Party

***Warning: strong language. Like, twice.***

**14 Forgive, But Don't Forget the Party **

I avoided everyone for the next few weeks. Nancy and Cathy's grandma had a house big enough to accomplish such a feat. Most of my time was spent on the roof, where no one could find me. I liked feeling the wind in my hair and listening to the city only a few miles away.

Melody, Mom, and Ayla were in the hospital. Mel had been shot three times in the stomach when she knocked me down, landing her in the Intensive Care Unit. She was the only one of them I went to visit, because it seemed like she understood. I knew it hurt Ayla when I didn't go to see her, and it hurt Mom even more, but I couldn't stand to talk to them. For some reason, I blamed them, not for Keel dying, but for Dad being the one to kill him.

I had my knees curled up to my chin, shivering in the wind. It was colder than normal, and it smelled like rain. My multi-purpose mystery gadget was resting in my palm, downloading songs that were so loud and full of rage that each guaranteed a .03% loss of hearing when listened at a certain volume. I calculated that if I listened to three songs a day, in 1,111 days I would lose almost 100% of my hearing.

I'd heard Grandma and Lisa prattling about throwing a party when the three hospital patients came home when I was in the kitchen this morning. They hadn't noticed me, which was just fine. The party idea, however, wasn't.

"I like Metallica," I mentioned to the bird that had just landed beside me. It blinked and ruffled its feathers. "Stupid pigeon," I mumbled, and I shooed it away.

"Ah ha," said a voice. I whipped around to see Dad's head poking out of the hole I'd found in the attic. "I thought you'd be up here."

I turned away and raised the volume on my music. At full volume, it was almost a 1% hearing loss.

"Emery," he said. He was standing beside me now, umbrella and everything, with one hand in his pocket. "Dear, please, don't shut me out like this." He sat down next to me.

"Go away," I groaned.

"I will not," he replied. "I'm staying right here until you decide to talk to me."

I sniffed and considered tossing his umbrella off the roof. Maybe he'd play fetch.

Dad looked around at the rolling black clouds. "It's going to be a grand storm," he stated. He glanced at me, and I focused even more intently on my multi-purpose mystery gadget. Would he leave if I threw _that_ off the roof? "We shouldn't be up here when it starts. We could get struck by lightning."

"Maybe that's what I want," I retorted. The look in his eyes made me wish I hadn't.

"Your behavior the past few weeks has been inexcusable," he told me firmly. "You've been ignoring and avoiding everyone, you haven't gone to see your own mother in the hospital, and you disappear all the time. What is wrong with you, Emery?"

I felt my eyes well up. "What's wrong?" I choked. "What's _wrong_? I'll tell you what's fucking wrong! My mom is in the hospital, everyone in this house is whispering behind my back, I'm in fucking New York, and I watched my father kill a man! Does that sound like something normal people experience!?" I screamed.

Dad's expression changed to dawning realization. "You're upset because Keel's dead," he said quietly.

"No, I'm not upset he's dead," I snapped. "I'm very _happy_ he's dead. I'm upset because _you_ had to be the one to do it. I'm upset because I watched _you_ shoot a gun and kill a man. If anyone else in that house had done it, I probably would be fine. But no, my father, the epitome of everything _right_ in my life, the one who always got me out of trouble with Mom, had to be the one." The tears were rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably. "I had to see you murderous, and it's the most horrifying thing in the world." I let my head fall onto my knees, and I sobbed.

Dad was silent for a long time. The only sounds were my screamo music and the oncoming thunder. Finally, after an eternity, he said, "I understand that this… is frightening for you." He chose his words carefully, pausing when he didn't know what to say next. "I imagine that if I watched my father kill a man, I would be terrified as well. But, Emery, please understand something." I raised my swollen eyes to stare at him expectantly. He took a deep breath. "You're going to hate me for saying this, but I don't want to lie to you. That wasn't the first time I've killed someone. You know that, don't you?"

I nodded. I'd considered it for a long time, trying to convince myself that it wasn't that bad, but I couldn't get over watching it.

He twisted his hands nervously. "It was very hard for me to pull that trigger," he continued. "Keel was my friend. I didn't want to kill him, but he shot Emma and he tried to shoot you. I will not tolerate anyone hurting the two of you." Dad met my gaze. "I did what I thought was right, for the sake of my family. Can you forgive me?"

I bit my lip, and it felt like I was going to cry again. "Okay, Dad," I managed.

Dad extended his arm, and I scooted closer into his embrace. "Thank you," he said. Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. Dad chuckled. "Shall we stay here for a while?" he asked.

I poked him. "What happened to getting struck by lightning?" I teased.

"With the Empire State Building just a mile away?" Dad said with a smirk. "We'll be fine."

***

The first one out of the hospital was Ayla.

"How was it?" I asked her, smiling for the first time in weeks. Knowing Ayla, it would be a very exciting tale.

Ayla was sitting on her bed, massaging her foot, but there was a huge grin on her face. "You won't believe it, but I got to help out!" she exclaimed. "Like, I helped take X rays and everything! And this one doctor, oh my God it was hilarious, he lost a bet, right? To a nurse named Chelsea. And the bet was that if the Giants lost their next game, Chelsea would have to dye her hair pink, but if they won, the doctor would have to impersonate Dr. House for a week!"

"Who won?" I interrogated.

"The Giants, of course!" Ayla cried. "I watched the game from my bed, and Chelsea was laughing her head off. So the next day, that doctor shows up with a fake beard, his hair colored gray, and a cane, and he limped around the hospital all week." Her eyes were shining. "But that's not the best part. At the end of the week, he fell down the stairs and hurt his leg. Now he has to use the cane for the next three months!" She burst out laughing, and I laughed with her. It felt good to laugh.

"That's probably the most fun _anyone's_ ever had in a hospital," I commented, still grinning.

Ayla shrugged. "Eh, I'm sure some girls have it better. Like they get a surgeon actually worth looking at to take the bullet out of their foot."

I was so glad Keel didn't shoot her in the head. Otherwise, who would I have to tell me such ridiculous stories?

Melody was next. The wounds in her stomach would take time to heal, and the doctor said she should refrain from doing anything too physical.

"What did you say to that?" Ayla asked. She, Alex, and I were crowded around Mel, clinging to her every word.

She smiled and adjusted herself on her bed. "I asked him if being chased by the police and having sex every night was too physical," she replied, causing us to exchange mystified looks. "He said definitely to the police, but the sex one depended on who it was with." Mel smirked. "And then he gave me his number."

"No way!" I cried, bashing her with a pillow. "That's _so_ nasty! I can't believe the kind of perverts I've surrounded myself with."

"Is he hot?" Ayla inquired excitedly. "Worth calling?"

Melody shrugged. "He was okay, but I won't call him."

Alex cocked his head, confused. "Why not?"

With a slow exhale, Mel closed her eyes. "Long story," was all she said. And we didn't say anything else about the matter, because she looked so sad.

Mom came last. Her bullet wounds, since they'd been left alone without proper treatment, had gotten infected. She had been horribly sick, and now I felt extremely guilty for not having gone to the hospital to see her.

"Come, darlings, come," Grandma exclaimed. "Emma will be home soon, we must make sure everything's ready!" She toddled into the dining hall, where ornate decorations you only saw in movies hung from the ceiling and covered the table. One of the perks of being a former Broadway star.

"Where's the champagne?" I cried, bustling after her. "Mom loves champagne. We've gotta have champagne!"

Alex stumbled into the hall, his arms laden down with… fireworks? "Check this out!" he called. "I found indoor fireworks! The kind they use for movies and plays, you know?"

"Ooh, neat," Ayla gushed. "Can we set them off, Nancy, please?"

"Later," Nancy said, smacking down all the joy. Ayla pouted and reached for the tray of candies on the table. "And stop eating. You'll ruin your appetite." She looked around. "Where's Cathy?"

"Poisoning the water supply," Alex told her.

"_What!?_"

I snickered. "Nancy, you're too gullible. She's upstairs."

"Well, she'd better get down here," Melody growled. She was lugging the couch into the hall, and I could tell from the way she was clutching her stomach that she might rip open the stitches. "I won't let her stay cooped up in her room because she's jealous of Emma."

Alex dropped his fireworks in a pile and raced to help her. "I hope there's a cat fight," he puffed as he pushed the couch. "Why does this need to be moved anyways?"

"For the hell of it," Mel replied. "Now push."

I pulled out the multi-purpose mystery gadget. "Where's the champagne?" I asked it desperately.

"Champagne," it repeated. Something whirred on the screen. "Second floor, first room on the left."

I nodded, not even bothering to wonder how the thing knew where it was, and sprinted up the stairs. The first room on the left was Cathy's room. _I wonder why it's in there?_ I thought.

Panting, I turned the doorknob and tried to burst into the room. Instead, I collided with solid door and perhaps broke my nose. Rubbing my poor nose, I knocked on the door. "Cathy?" I called nasally. "Can we have the champagne back?"

The door opened, and Cathy was standing there, her eyes swollen and a half empty bottle in her shaking hand. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but she suddenly looked dizzy and stopped.

"Oh God," I muttered. "Cathy, what did you do?"

"I _hic _got thirsty," she explained, swaying slightly.

I shook my head. All this for my dad? "Cathy, can I have the bottle?" I asked gently.

"N-no," Cathy said, hugging it to her body. "I haven't drowned all my miseries yet."

"Cathy!" I cried. "Stop mooning after someone you can never have! My dad is married and happy, and you can't change that!"

"Why else would I be drinking like a _hic_ fish?" she replied.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Jeez, girl, I don't know what to say to you. You've got two beautiful kids, a wonderful sister, and your grandmother downstairs, and they're all waiting for you. Are you going to keep them waiting?"

She took another swig. "My sister hates me, and my kids are strangers."

"Because you haven't taken the time to get to know them!" I yelled. "God, you're such an idiot! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and live your freaking life!"

Cathy stared at me with her swollen eyes, unblinking. I was about to yank my hair out. Irritated beyond reason, I pushed past her into her room.

It was dark and very warm, and smelled sickly sweet like her bottle. There were more bottles, I remembered buying at least three. Sure enough, on the bed, there were three more bottles. I gathered them up and stared at Cathy, who was still standing in the doorway. "You can keep that one," I told her. "Enjoy your life." And I stormed out of the room.

***

Steed took Emma by her bandaged arm and walked her up the steps. "I believe they're throwing you a surprise party," he informed her as he rapped on the door.

Emma smiled. "Not much of a surprise anymore, is it?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I never liked surprises."

When Steed looked down, his wife was smirking. "Really?"

"Why, are you hiding something?" he questioned.

"You just said you don't like surprises, so I won't tell you," she said playfully.

Steed sighed and decided to change the subject. "I talked to Miss Hopkins," he said.

"And what did she say?" Emma replied.

"She said she would keep the Trebles out of the United Kingdom."

"Good," stated his wife. "Then our work in America is done."

Emery flung the door open and ran into her mother's arms. "I missed you so much!" she cried.

Emma grinned at her daughter and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "I missed you too, darling," she said. She winked at her husband. "Shall we?"

He eyed her suspiciously, but followed them into the house.

The dining hall was decorated, as expected, with unnecessary commodities draped across the walls and dangling from the ceiling. Lisa the chef had the table set with so much food he doubted they could eat it all. Eleanor, Cathy and Nancy's grandmother, was wearing a sparkling dress that was far too fancy for the occasion. Nancy was busy scolding Ayla, while Alex was playing with something that looked like fireworks. Cathy was nowhere to be seen.

Melody rushed to Emma and embraced her. "Emma, I'm so glad you're back!" she cried. "I would say it's been boring, but Bonnie and Clyde over there kept things lively." She gestured to the twins as she handed Emma a glass of champagne.

As she spoke, Alex lit the fuse to one of the fireworks. It exploded with a small shower of sparks. Emery ran over to where he sat on the floor, making it clear she wanted to light one. Steed wondered if anything else would spark between the two.

"By the way," Mel continued, "I promised Emery I'd show her New York, if you guys wanted to stay for a while. Would you mind?"

Steed shook his head. "I'm sure Emery would enjoy that, and enjoy missing school even more." He paused. "Emma, I've been considering that we put her in the Ministry for private tutoring."

Emma smirked. "Sounds wonderful, John. I'll pull her out of school at the end of the semester." Her eyes glinted with humor, causing Steed to be more curious than ever about what she was keeping from him.

He looked over at Emery, Alex, and Ayla. All three were toying with the fireworks, Emery holding what looked like a Roman candle. She struck her match, but it wouldn't light.

"The chandelier," Emma said, watching their daughter. She took a sip from her glass. "If she can light the match."

Steed accepted a glass of champagne from Nancy. "How much, do you think?"

"One hundred, at least," she replied.

Nancy had seen what was going on, and was heading towards the threesome to investigate the situation. Eleanor was bubbly with champagne, giggling at every little thing. "I say two," Steed challenged.

Emma caught his eye. "You're on."

Suddenly, the giant doors burst open, scaring Emery. A tall man with paint splattered pants entered the hall, flanked by two shorter but equally smug looking men. He saw Mel and made a beeline for her.

In her fright, Emery had lit the match without realizing it. The flame found the fuse of her firework, and unexpectedly it exploded. She fell backwards, her eyes wide and panicked as the balls of fire exploded out of her hands. The firework was aimed at the ceiling.

"Still time to change your bet," Steed whispered as he sipped his champagne.

Emma stepped closer to him. "Still time to enjoy surprises."

"Care to surprise me by changing your wage?" he questioned.

She linked her arm through his. "Alright," she said. "I'll wager that by the time you decide to enjoy surprises, the chandelier will have fallen on the table and we'll owe Eleanor a _very _large sum of money."

The firework was still firing, beyond Emery's control. Eleanor, Melody, and the three men ran in panic, the twins were trying to light more, and Nancy was yelling at them for doing so. "Alright," he said. "I can't take it anymore. What's your surprise?"

Emma met his wonderful blue eyes the instant one of the balls of fire hit the chandelier. It exploded in a fountain of spark, and the beautiful chandelier began to pull against its hold on the ceiling. She waited until she heard the final crack, alerting her that the expensive lamp was falling through the air. "I'm pregnant," she told him.

The chandelier crashed onto the table, snapping it in two. Plates of food flew into the air, crashing into each other. The room went very dark, except for the ongoing fireworks the twins kept lighting. They exploded in all colors, making the moment absolutely magical.

Steed found himself grinning. "Good," he said. "I was beginning to think that Emery was losing her knack for trouble." He leaned down a little more and kissed his wife, with the fireworks exploding behind them in a most romantic scene.

~The End~

***AN: I'm thinking about writing a sequel. Heh, wouldn't that be a riot? But it's VERY uncertain. Does anyone want one? Because that will probably influence my decision. BTW, I do not own the Avengers. I do, however, own Emery, Nancy, Alex and Ayla, Melody, and anyone else whose name you've never heard in the show before. Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it!***


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